


Ripley, Believe It Or Not....

by roxymissrose



Series: Ripley, Believe It Or Not [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxymissrose/pseuds/roxymissrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an mpreg for folks who don't particularly care for mpreg, somewhat like myself. It's about Clark and Lex and love conquering all.</p><p>Originally posted 6-1-2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripley, Believe It Or Not....

Ripley, Believe It Or Not….

Whenever Clark thought back to that day, it seemed like it happened a million years ago, the afternoon that changed everything. And when he did he wondered, if he’d known—would he have done things differently?

~oRo~

Those days he’d thought life couldn’t get worse. After the collapse of his friendship with Lex, the loss of Pete, he’d felt empty and frightened and lonelier than ever in his life and Lana had come to talk, to say goodbye before she left for the City Of Lights…and like they sometimes do, unexpected things happened.

He could still remember that first kiss clearly, first the touch of his lips on her cheek, she’d stood so still, trembling like a rabbit, and then he’d kissed her mouth and she’d made a little noise. It was so small and meek and went right to his groin. Like every little noise she made, every little move she made, had a string connected to his cock, and it kept tugging and tugging. She hadn’t stopped, not even when she’d realized he was hard, in fact, she’d rubbed against him, right there, over and over until he begged her please, “Can you touch me, is—is it okay to ask?”

And she’d smiled, and sunk to her knees. Clark thought he’d died and gone to—well, not heaven, unlikely you got blow jobs there that made you feel like your brains were being sucked out the end of your cock…at least that’s what it felt like at the time. It was the best BJ he’d ever had because it was the only one he’d ever had.

And after the two (maybe) whole minutes it took for him to come, she’d pushed him down and blew him until he got hard again and rode him like a pony.

‘God Clark, I missed this,’ he remembered her saying. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, please…’

He’d felt a weird wave of something, not orgasm, not anything he could pin down, it was almost like pain, almost nausea but not.

She’d squeaked. ‘Ouch!’ And stopped for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I felt a pinch,’ and wiggled in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head and his poor semi-virginal cock couldn’t take the extra stimulation, he came with a yell, and a buck that’d nearly thrown her off the couch.

‘Oh gosh—I’m sorry--did you…’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I didn’t, who had time to? But don’t worry, there’s something you can do for me.’ It ended with her calling out Whitney’s name but out of respect, Clark hadn’t mentioned it. They all missed Whitney, after all.

On the day Clark lost his virginity, he’d learned about fellatio, intercourse and cunnilingus. And ass play, but that was kind of accidental. He’d also discovered that love and sex didn’t necessarily come in tandem. He’d never received a word from Lana after she left for Paris. Not a call, or a card, nothing. He knew guys were supposed to be cool with getting sex anyway they could, and sex without strings was supposed to be the best—but he just felt used…kind of like if he’d said no, she wouldn’t have stopped. But that was stupid…wasn’t it?

 

~oRo~

But that was then. And now….

Clark sighed. Now here he was, friendless, girl-less. Loveless. He groaned and rubbed his stomach. It itched all the time. No matter how much cream and stuff he put on it, it itched and if he rubbed too hard it burned.

He pulled up his tee shirt and gasped a little. The skin under his navel was all red, like he’d smacked himself hard--a lot. Crap. He pulled his shirt back down, unconsciously smoothing it flat. Lately his body had decided to go nuts on him. It was bad enough being an alien and not knowing what the hell was going to happen next—sometimes he dreaded waking up in the morning, worried that in the night, maybe tentacles had shot out of his ass. Crap. He stared at his crotch and worried about that, too. He was getting a bump on his cock. In it. He poked carefully at the slight swelling at the base. His cock surged a bit. And it was sensitive. Bad sensitive. Well, bad for being in public. He’d taken to wearing shirts so long he looked like some goofy rapper wanna be, but as long as it covered the boners that sprang willy-nilly…he snorted. Heh. Willy-nilly. He scratched carefully at his stomach and went down stairs to raid the fridge. Again.

~oRo~

Clark scratched off the one hundredth and twenty-second day on the calendar. It had been one hundred and twenty two days since Lana had left and still no call. He idly chewed his way through a bowl of ice and eyed the cabinets. He was pretty sure Mom had picked up one of those party bags of Doritos at the Stop n’ Shop today. He ate the last piece of ice and sighed. If he didn’t leave for school now, he was screwed. And forget running—he’d tried to speed off to the back fields yesterday and nearly died. Dad had to help him back to the house he had cramps so bad, and then, they’d sat around looking at him, waiting for—for--*tentacles* to shoot out of his ass, damn it.

Clark grabbed his jacket and yelled good-bye, ran carefully to the bus. Shoot. It wasn’t their fault. He understood, he really did. They knew he wasn’t human and anything out of the ordinary he experienced could be…any damn thing. He slumped his way onto the bus and plopped down in the back. Alone.

Pete was gone, Lana was definitely gone, and Chloe and her dad had moved suddenly, so fast that he’d barely had a chance to say good-bye. She’d cried and snotted all over him and disappeared as effectively as Lana had. And not to forget Lex, former best friend and confidant revealed to be a lying bitch, he was nowhere to be seen. Not that he wanted to see him, like he’d told Lex, that friendship was over. That room…it was so…he shivered. And wondered in the back of his mind how much time Lex spent there. And a very fleeting thought wondered what he wore when he was in there…but mostly, Lex was a big fat liar who never even came to see if he was okay after Lana left him--Clark groaned quietly to himself. Why was his inner child a ten-year-old girl given to temper tantrums?

The bus stopped and everyone pushed to get off. He was distracted by a sudden boner, and the smell of Jordan, one of those guys on the team…gee, he smelled damn good. Really, really, really good, crap. He was throbbing. He pressed his book bag over his crotch, and the pressure made him groan—he glanced around quickly and faked a cough or two. Wiped his nose and shouldered his way through the crowd of kids. God—he had to get to the bathroom fast.

~oRo~

All it took was a good hard squeeze and he was coming. He felt the bump swell and shift when he came, and that dropped him right out of The After. He stared down at himself. What the freak was it, and how did he ask if anyone else ever had that happen to them—and who? He groaned to himself. His friends at the moment totaled zero. That only left Dad. Double crap.

He zipped up and touched his belly and jumped. It felt like an electric shock. He looked down and gasped. Geez—he had some kind of bizarre swelling running right down his trail. He looked closer. It was red and raised slightly and looked bad. If it didn’t go away in a few days, he’d talk to his folks. Again—this was an example of how much his life sucked. It was so unfair. Other kids just went to their friends or the nurse or somebody. He only had his parents. Lex for some inexplicable reason crossed his mind. He didn’t know whether to smile or frown. Bet he’d love to take a look at this, he thought sardonically. A smaller voice he generally ignored said yeah, bet he’d figure it out and find a way to help with all this crap…

A few days later he was in the shower, washing up and singing something that was not a show tune, not at all. He attacked his armpits with vigor, and worked his way down, over his nipples, an area he liked to take his time washing carefully. He hummed, his cock twitched a bit and he washed lower, didn’t think about much, just kind of lazy swoops of the washcloth and suds, wondering if Lex had bought a new car and what he was doing, if he ever thought about—damn!

He fell back against the shower and quivered; his cock was hard as rock and pressed right against his belly. He tentatively touched the swollen line he’d run the cloth over a second ago—and his cock slapped upwards and spurt a jet of precome. His knees were shaky, and he touched himself again, running his fingertips lightly over and over it until his neck arched, his teeth ground together in an effort to keep in the scream that struggled to break free. He came so hard he hit right under the shower nozzle; the next few jets hit one after the other tracking down the wall. God.

What was happening to him? He looked down at his softening cock and the bump moved. He gaped and stared—it had definitely moved. Pretty sure it moved… _oh God…._

~oRo~

 

The next few days passed like a horrible slow motion nightmare. Gym was a nightmare, the hallways were a nightmare. People bumped and jostled him and sometime, they hit him in a way that was nearly disastrous--and felt incredible. He was going nuts. At night, in the privacy of his room, it was completely different. That ridge must be some Kryptonian sex thing…he couldn’t stop touching it. And it was getting bigger, and now when he touched it, it puffed up a little and….

Clark arched up in the bed, shoulders clearing the mattress and come filling the handful of tissues he held over the end of his cock. The ridge throbbed in time with each spurt, and that bump moved each time and it felt like someone had a finger inside him, touching him in a real good way.

He fell back, panting, floating in that happy daze he got right after he came, grinning like a fool. Until he was calmed again, and then he worried. ‘Cause that’s what he did. He worried.

~oRo~

The next afternoon in school, he was walking past the art class and nearly died. He stopped in his tracks. His mouth watered, his nostrils quivered…the smell…something in that classroom smelled delicious. He crept into the empty classroom and sniffed around until he found…clay. It smelled like he had to have some and have it right now. It looked gross as hell, and felt nasty and sticky in his fingers but he had to taste it, and then he had to eat some, and then…and then….

The bus ride home was awful. His mouth felt weird--gluey and gritty at the same time, and his stomach felt like he had a rock in it. Kind of empty and full at the same time. And for some darn reason, every time Jordan looked his way, he blushed. Great. Be more gay, he thought…more gay…the thought was almost a relief. Was that what it was going on inside him? He was gay? Maybe he was experiencing some kind of gay alien thing. He looked at Jordan, stared at him hard, really checked him out, and waited for a reaction. Nothing. Except for Jordan hissing ‘fag’ in his face as he got off the bus. And the instant boner he got as Jordan walked away. What the hell?

~oRo~

Clark lightly massaged his groaning belly. Geez. He’d only been home for an hour and he’d been eating non-stop. He was still wandering around the kitchen, looking in cabinets, and so tired his eyes were crossing—and stuffed. So effing stuffed. Between the pound of clay (it had to have been at least a pound), and the chips and the darn ice and the pineapple and the effing green peppers, and oh God he wanted one now _so_ bad, if only he hadn’t eaten them all—his stomach moaned, he moaned and then tears popped into his eyes. What the _hell_ was his problem?

Suddenly, just like that, he knew. The knowledge was so enormous that he staggered to a chair and fell into it. Oh. Oh. Of course. It was so fucking obvious.

His head fell to his folded arms and tears ran, soaking his sleeves, soaking the placemat under his head. Oh…he was dying. He had some kind of alien disease, and he was going to die. He had a tumor on his privates and life was over. His sobs vibrated in his ears, and the next thing he knew, Mom was shaking him, yelling, "Clark, Clark!"

He lifted his head and stared at her shocked face and it made him cry all over again.  
“Mom, Mom, I’m so sorry…”

“What is it honey, what’s the matter, Clark?”

Eventually she had to shake him pretty good to calm him down, who knew Mom had a grip like that? She managed to get some of the story out of him, and called in his dad to get the rest, and then they were finished and everyone sat at the table, shell-shocked.

“Ah. Son, can…do you mind…showing me?”

His dad blushed and Clark wanted to beat his head against the table but, “Okay. All right.”

He stood and started to unbuckle his belt and his mom said, “I’ll just go sit in the living room, call me.” She started to walk past him when she stopped, looked. “Sweetie, lift your shirt.” He did and his mom frowned.

“Hmm. That’s really odd. It looks kind of like…” She touched the ridge before he could stop her.

“MOM! DON”T!” He stood as still as possible, bit the inside of his cheek violently and thought of math and dog puke and that warty guy at the gas station who cleaned the bathrooms with an eager smile…his knees shook but he didn’t come and that was a blessing. Everything else was a walk through hell.

“Oh!” His mom jumped back blushing furiously, and his dad looked terribly confused.  
“What the hell was---oh. Never mind.”

“Is it like that _all_ the time Clark?” she asked weakly.

Clark pulled his shirt over his head and wished for a swift death. “No, it just suddenly… I mean, it’s a little like that but never that…you know.”

She swallowed and leaned forward again. “Clark, there’s a--” She waved her finger around, carefully not touching. “A seam, I think…”

“What?”

“Maybe you should see, check it out carefully, but it seems like maybe there’s a cut there.”

Clark was curious and worried; he hadn’t noticed anything different about it this morning, but it hadn’t been nearly that sensitive in the shower. He blushed. He definitely would have noticed if it had been. He went into his bedroom, shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted his shirt, pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. He was kind of reluctant to touch himself; he just looked at it first. It was thicker, it was redder, and--he grimaced—he’d cut it somehow, there was a small slice running down the center of it…yuck. It looked like there was something coming out. Maybe it was infected. Maybe that was why it was so red and puffy…he touched it carefully, trying not to get _that way._ Nothing. Nothing happened, no reaction…no hardon, not a twitch. Nothing.

Clark let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxed. Finally. He must be healing. Maybe this was all over and he could rest easy again. Boy, it’d be great to have his life back to normal. He pressed on the ridge, and it gave under his finger, the edges of the cut popped open and his finger sank in.

 _Hot, wet, what--_

After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes and drew in a long shaky breath, his throat was raw, and he ached all over. He felt warm stickiness under his chin, on his throat, his chest, he looked down, there was come all over his belly, his pants were wet, and his thighs twitched and jumped. The ridge oozed clear fluid and the edges gaped a bit.

Fuck.

What the fucking fuck was that?

What the fuck kind of people sent their alien babies out into the universe without even a note that said ‘hey kid---by the way, some day you’re going to wake up with a _pussy_ in your chest’!

He shivered and shivered. He felt the muscles in his butt contract, almost flutter, and he almost screamed--please don’t let it be tentacles, please God, don’t let tentacles fly out his ass! At this point, he figured anything was possible.

He cleaned up—slowly--and wished he could be struck instantly blind when he came downstairs and his parents couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was blushing, and coughing…Clark’s throat hurt like it was raw. Great. Just…great.

He motioned for his dad to follow him out of the room—and told him what he thought had happened. It was a long night. A really long night.

In the morning, the ridge looked a lot less like it had the night before, it looked like…well, normal…it was just a swelling again. It wasn’t open, or oozing, and Clark hardly knew what to think. He’d feel better about it if the swelling in his cock hadn’t moved down though. Now he had a small lump mid-shaft. And he’d noticed lately, it was getting harder to pee. Really hard to pee. And it kind of hurt, burned sort of. He found it helped a little to massage it while he tried desperately not to bite his tongue off and keep aiming at the bowl. He usually ended up panting, sweating, hanging off the sink and swearing off liquids. If he could shove his arm in a chipper, he could live without liquids.

His eyes filled with tears of frustration and he wanted to throw himself on the floor and cry, and he wanted to beat the crap out of himself for wanting to cry…lumps, burning pee…fuck.

Had he gotten some kind of STD from Lana?

He got something from her—he knew it. She obviously hadn’t been a virgin… obviously. Whitney had been a big popular jock guy, maybe he gave Lana something and she didn’t even know, and he couldn’t even tell her because who knew where the hell she was…maybe Lex? Lex who he refused to talk to anymore…the floor was wet with his tears, snot was dripping from his swollen nose and he wanted nothing more than to—to—eat, damn he was hungry.

~oRo~

Mom and Dad were being cool about his problem. They were being cool about giving him space. They told him they were pretty sure it wasn’t an STD. They seemed pretty sure it was probably something to do with his alien physiology. Great. What a load off his mind. Right.

He snorted, pulled down the covers and lay back on his bed. He pushed down his boxers. Since it was so normal, maybe he might as well take advantage of it. He dropped a wad of tissues on the bed, squeezed a little lotion in his hand and started stroking; enjoying the feel of his fingers skating over his hardening cock. He let his head drop back onto his pillow, and concentrated on feeling boneless, floating. He sighed, and loosened a little more, spread his legs. He rolled his balls in one hand and thrust upward into the tunnel of his other. It felt good. The heat in his groin traveled up, pooled around his navel, got hotter and hotter. He felt the ridge tingle, throb…he touched it and was stunned by the intense shock of pleasure that shot through him. He looked, it was wet— _he_ was wet and as he touched himself, he quivered and moaned. Every touch sent shocks of pleasure through him, the seam opened wide, and the building sensation made him push his finger in. It dipped in and out, and then his back was arching, muscles rigid, his cock felt like it was spurting but it just jerked and jerked, and shock waves of ecstasy swept out from under his navel.

So suddenly that he had no time to draw a breath, pleasure turned to extreme pain—pain that made him want to throw up, pain that made him want to scream but he could only gasp desperately for air. The swelling, the bump in his cock, was moving downward. Clear fluid ran out the end and then with one last ripping stab of pain, something oozed out of him, a small globular mass, followed by a rush of watery come. He stared down, panting, horrified, frozen…he couldn’t move. The globular thing split open, a thin needle like claw split the little sac it was in. It crawled toward him. Clark was hyperventilating, his muscles twitched and jumped but he was paralyzed. He squeaked in terror, it was worse than any horror movie ever—he was completely frozen, locked in place and about to be eaten alive and from the size of the thing, it was going to take a really long time. Tears clouded his eyes, he blinked wildly and he managed to squeeze a weak, “Mommy.” out of his tight, dry throat.

It was smaller than the tip of his finger and moving relentlessly and horribly quickly, it was moving up his leg and he felt tiny pinpricks on his skin and he closed his eyes and moaned, "no, no, no"--it was going to crawl back inside him--his teeth chattered and moans leaked out between the gasps for air and he felt something on his belly. He looked down and it was crawling to the open seam in the ridge. He couldn’t move, only his head, his neck, responded to his wild attempts to move.

He had a terrifyingly clear flashback to a program on marsupials and started laughing… _I’m a possum, a giant fucking talking possum_ …It slipped inside and the ridge sealed shut… _I’m Kanga._

His muscles released all at once and he fell over the side of the bed and vomited until his throat burned. When he could, he sat up and with his eyes and nose running, he rolled up the rug he’d ruined, gagging the whole time. He dragged himself down the hall to the bathroom, and tried to throw up some more.

He ended kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, his forehead resting on the edge of the toilet. He was finally breathing normally, he was finally _not_ trying to throw his guts up. Even his ribs hurt; every muscle felt like it was pulled to the ripping point. He rolled his head towards the doorway. In a minute, he’d think about what just happened. He’d apply all his brainpower to it. He’d come up with something more reasonable than ‘Kryptonians were naked talking possums.’ He laughed, a short snort of sound. He did it again, and did it again, his shoulders began shaking and he giggled helplessly. He giggled and tried to stifle it and tears began to run, again. He felt a tiny flutter in his gut and the giggles cut off—he stopped breathing for a moment—and began to scream.

~oRo~

Mom made him sit on the couch, and fussed all over him and wrapped a blanket around him, and Dad kind of hovered in the background, looking alternately queasy and terrified. Yeah. He got that.

He had a big mug of hot cocoa in his hand, but he figured that was mostly because Mom didn’t know what else to do. Actually, the heat against his palms felt pretty good, kind of soothing. He took a little sip. Delicious. Wondered if he could get a few rings of green pepper in it…or maybe some seafood…

“Clark! “

“--I’m sorry—what, Mom?”

“Clark, are you…I don’t even know what to ask. Are you okay, are you…holding up?”

He stared at her, her look of concern tinged with fear—for him---and really had no idea what to say. He wanted to reassure her but there was a little core of him that was mad at her. “Sure Mom, I’m only pregnant. _I hope._ Why shouldn’t I be fine?” He felt an instant flare of guilt. There really wasn’t anything she could do or could have done, _fucking stupid Kryptonians_ and being nasty to her wasn’t going to help anything. "Really, Mom, I’m okay. I guess.” He smiled weakly at her.

Dad came up behind Mom, and put his hands on her shoulders. It was obvious he was having a hard time processing this, hell, at least Mom had some vague idea of what was going on, but Dad…

“Pregnant. By—did it happen by…by yourself?” Dad asked, and Clark and his mom turned to stare at him.

“By…hunh?”

“Jonathan…”

“I—hey, don’t look at me like that--” He pointed at Clark "—he’s pregnant, what do we know about all this? Anything is possible—and mind you, Son, nothing has changed for me, you understand? Your mom and I love you just the same. As ever. Always.” His head was nodding like those annoying bobble head dolls Pete used to keep in his car’s rear window…Pete.

Clark sobbed once, bit his lip and dropped his head. “No, not by myself…I think it was…”

His dad jumped in. “It wasn’t that Luthor, was it?”

“DAD! Dad, it wasn’t Lex! I’m not gay. Do you think I’m gay because of this? Because I’m not. _I’m fairly certain I’m not…what if it had been Lex—could it have been Lex?_ Clark shook himself. His mind kept wandering. Was that normal— _oh god, don’t start laughing again, it’s scary when it won’t stop…._

“Can you tell us who it was, dear?”

“I’ve only had sex with one person. Lana.”

“What? Her? But she’s so…so…I’ll kill her.”

“Mom! It wasn’t her fault! How could she know? Besides,” he said, a strange satisfaction filling him, “she _really_ wasn’t—you know. A virgin. Really not. She’s been around the block a time or five.”

“Oh, yeah,” his mom said, leaning forward. “You know, I always had the feeling, that heifer was too good to be true--”

“Hello? Back to the point?” his dad cut in. “Never mind Lana, except—you should know better, boy, what were all the safe sex lectures about? And don’t tell me about the heat of the moment, I _know_ about the heat of the moment--”

Clark wondered why meteor mutants never broke in on him when he was having a _bad_ time.

Mom patted him on the leg and squeezed his ankle. “Sweetie, we’ll handle this. We’ve dealt with everything so far, we can deal with this.”

Of course she was wrong.

~oRo~

 

Clark marked the one hundredth and fifty-third (Lana-less) day off the calendar and leaned his head against the wall. He had no idea why he kept doing that. She’d stopped mattering to him a while ago. He didn’t even want to hear from her, most of the time. It was just…she’d been the last person to be nice to him—he laughed. Sure. Nice to him.

He stared at the plate of eggs and toast waiting for him, a tiny bowl of sliced peaches right next to it, peeled and cut into perfect slices just like he liked it, and he felt his eyes flood with tears. Mom loved him. Wonderful, he was losing his mind more and more every day. Stupid peaches. He sniffed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Stupid commercial with the dancing elephant that for some darn reason made him cry…stupid life!

School was getting harder and harder to deal with. Most of the time he was so tired he could barely get through class, or he was weepy or crabby…his back hurt and he didn’t know why. Wasn’t like his pelvis was spreading or anything…he sighed. And he knew way more than he ever wanted to know about pregnancy. Human women pregnancy. Which wasn’t much help to him. He bit on a peach slice and chewed thoughtfully. He had to admit, the prenatal vitamins and the iron pills really helped cut down the oddball cravings. And thinking about that—Clark got the bottles out of the cabinet and shook one each into his hand. Thank god for the internet, he thought and swallowed the pills.

He pulled a tee shirt over the long sleeved henley he wore, and buttoned up the extra-extra large flannel. This wasn’t going to work a whole lot longer, he thought. He shouldered his bag and allowed himself a minute in which to feel totally sorry for himself. God, life sucked so bad and he had to swim through the suckage by himself…

His mom came up and hugged him. “Did you eat?” she asked. “Enough?” she asked again when Clark nodded yes.

“Yes Mom. I ate enough for a small army.”

“Good.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t miss the bus, sweetie.”  


~oRo~

 

After school, he had a serious craving for hot cocoa, so he got off the bus in town. He walked along the main street, humming not-show tunes to himself, and window-shopping. He stopped and looked for a long time at the display in Denton Sports. He shrugged and moved on, not thinking about anything in particular, just letting his brain rest, when something grabbed him by the face and made every part of him tingle. Hard on. He had an instant, rock hard, ‘oh my god, fuck right now!’ erection. He stood rooted to the spot; unable to move as the most wonderful smell in the whole world stuffed itself up his nose…cinnamon buns. Oh…my…God…his mouth watered and his nostrils flared. He had to have one right now—he refused to think about the fact he’d gotten hard smelling cinnamon buns. He was not effing ruining cinnamon buns for himself.

He moved closer to the smell and found himself near the doorway of the Talon and then…Lex walked out of the Talon, and another scent wafted toward him and decided not to waste time with nostrils and sinuses and all that and just went straight to his cock. His sadly weeping cock. _That_ was the smell—that was the smell that made him feel like his cock was about to burst, and he was momentarily, insanely, happy that it wasn’t cinnamon buns giving him a hard on, then… _he’s looking this way!_

Lex looked at him and his eyes brightened, and just at that moment, Ripley rolled over and Clark grimaced.

Lex jerked his head back and Clark swore he saw in the space of a second, hurt and sad and fury and then a sarcastic sneer settled on his features. But Clark was sure for a moment, he’d been happy to see him, until he blew it of course—

“Lex!”

Lex was gone, into his car and roaring past without a glance.

Clark watched his taillights disappearing down the street. He pressed his hand flat against his navel, right over the swell. “I fucking hate you, Ripley.”

Clark felt an all too familiar wave of emotion roll over him. God, screwy hormones. He didn’t know how women did it, this constant storm of moodiness. Lex. He trudged into the Talon, and sat in a booth in the back and tried to read the menu. _Bacon and Lex_ … _EngLex muffin_ …he gave up and threw the menu on the table. Right. “Cocoa,” he muttered when the waitress asked what he wanted.

He watched a bunch of kids from the high school, sitting a few tables over, laughing and carrying on, and it made him terribly sad. There, that’s what he should be doing, sitting over there, sitting with friends and drinking sodas and flirting with…God…flirting with one of those guys. Hell of a time to find out he was gay. Now, when he was fat and weepy and nuts. He sighed. Yep. Nuts _and_ pathetic.

He sipped at his cocoa for a bit, stared into its dark chocolate depths and wished that five months ago, he’d known he would end up like this. He’d never have told Lex…he sighed. On the other hand, it might have been the only smart decision he’d made that day.

He heaved another huge sigh and looked up. Oh crap. Jordan was glaring at him. He must have thought he was staring at him. Damn. He was getting up, and motioning back a couple of the other guys. “I’ll handle this,” Clark heard and closed his eyes. Shoot. Trouble.

Jordan was in front of him. “Look, you faggot, you keep staring at me and see what happens, you hear?”

Clark stood and grabbed his bag. “I wasn’t looking at you—I was just…looking.” He tried to move past Jordan and he pushed Clark, pulled his fist back and punched his shoulder.

Clark watched the huge fist come flying at him and wondered how he was going to act like it hurt, worried if Jordan was going to injure himself and then—“Yow!”

He yelped, staggered a bit and grabbed his shoulder, shocked to his core. That had kind of…hurt. “Ow,” he mumbled and rolled his shoulder, and was momentarily distracted when Ripley fluttered again. “Behave yourself.”

Jordan was looking at him oddly when Clark looked up again.

“What do you mean—and ow? That’s it?”

Clark frowned. “Ow-ow, is that better?” He rubbed his belly. Ripley was really active today. “Look, I’m sorry if my eyeballs bother you. I really don’t have the time for a fight.” He pushed an arm through the strap of his bag. “And just so you know, none of you guys have to worry, you’re not at all my type.” He thought about the way Lex did that…walk… “So not my type,” he repeated and shuddered.

Jordan stared for a moment, obviously torn between affront and amusement and then laughed. “Okay, Kent. Okay. Damn, it’s not like I’m Quasimodo or something---don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not your type--and just so you’re clear, I’m not gay.”

“Aw, big effing shame, that. Yeah. I kind of figured.”

He laughed and then looked at Clark curiously. “Whitney always used to say that you were trying to steal his girl, and you used to hang out with that ditzy blonde all the time, I figured you were hitting that. But…you really are? Gay, I mean?”

Clark looked into his eyes and said with a touch of defiance, “Yeah.”

Jordan shook his head. “Well, you’re no pussy, that’s for sure.”

Clark winced a little and gulped the last cold dregs of his cocoa. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”

“Listen, I’m going back there and I’m going to tell them we’re cool, ‘cause I’m a real great guy. Just—stop making me nervous, okay?” And he grinned at Clark.

Clark smiled. “Yeah, well thanks, I guess.”

Jordan went back to his table and Clark watched the quick argument that Jordan won by slapping one of the guys on the back of the head. He grinned. Maybe he’d just made a…not-so-much-an enemy.

~oRo~

 

“You know, when I was a kid, they used to send the girls to ‘secretarial school’,” and Clark could hear the quotes.

“Yes,” Mom said, “well, those were the bad old days, nowadays we just stone those sluts in the public square.”

“I wasn’t saying I condoned that attitude,” Dad protested.

“I don’t think there’s much point to this conversation.”

Clark nodded in agreement from his spot at the top of the stairs, hidden in the dark. He gulped the glass of milk down and wondered--what the fuck were they all going to do? They’d been dancing around the thing for the last month. He was really kind of starting to show now. What the hell was he going to do? How was he going to finish school? How was he going to take care of it? He swallowed. Did he have to take care of it? It rolled a bit and Clark felt guilty. Of course he’d take care of it. Unless…unless it planned to eat it’s way out.

He shuddered. _Not really funny, Kent._

He walked back to his room, lay on his bed, and groaned like a hundred year old man. He huffed a time or two and then did all those relaxation breathing things he read about.

Some sites he’d been to said talk to the baby.

He did.

“You know why I hate you Ripley? Because you’re turning me into a monster. Even my folks look at me and see a monster. It was a little easier before but now…” He rubbed carefully over the tight swelling, crooning as he spoke. Hey, tone was important, he figured, not words… “I hate you, because all my friends are gone and I can’t risk making new ones and I hate you for making me gay. Okay, maybe that was Lana’s fault, but still,” he sighed and eased to his side, shoved a pillow behind his aching back, “I hate you because I shouldn’t have to know that massaging my belly in a tub of hot water makes cramps go away.” He said, “I hate you because when you’re born, I won’t ever be able to pretend I’m normal again. You’ll make sure of that.”

Ripley turned, and Clark smoothed his hand over the swelling. He grimaced. Lately, he’d found out that an orgasm not only made his back feel better, it stopped it—the—Ripley from moving so much. Besides, it made him feel better. He sat up and reached for his tissues, and lotion. He plopped back down on the bed with a sigh and tried to ignore that evil little voice that lived in the back of his head. _you got an audience,_ it snickered. He hated that voice even more than he hated Ripley.

He closed his eyes and thought good thoughts. He thought about being in a shower with Wil Smith…tried to imagine Wil’s hand where his was. His knuckles brushed the ridge and he groaned softly. Every touch to it magnified every stroke of his cock. Fantasy Wil was damn good at this. He felt his ass clench and relax, he was getting closer, Wil was sliding to his knees and licking him from head to root, and his tongue did this swirly thing that he read about online and sounded real good---he wanted to try that with someone—

His hips jerked and his cock drooled and drooled, ever since he’d gotten…er…it was ridiculous how much precome he produced. It was slick now, really wet, and he jerked faster and faster, not as fast as he used to be able to, not with the partial loss of his powers but fast enough. He grunted on each down stroke, and Wil was begging him to fuck him, now right now, only Wil sounded more like him and looked like him and Lex was standing in back of him, pressing his cock into his hole, growling ‘Ready for this, Clark?’

“Oohhh, fuck yeah…yeah…” Clark missed the tissue, not that it would have helped. A jet of come shot out of his cock and reached for the stars, but mostly splattered, warm and thick, all over his chest and face and belly, and in rapid succession spurt two, three, four times before finally subsiding. Clark panted hard, he felt flooded with a wonderful sense of well-being. He thought about cleaning up, _in a minute, really,_ and passed out with a contented smile.

~oRo~

 

He shoved himself into a pair of sweat pants and groaned. God, he was so fat! He marched downstairs and grabbed the marker, and scratched out the new day. One hundred and sixty-one days of…pregnancy. He winced. He still hated that word.

He grabbed his jacket and ran out to the barn, where he figured Dad had to be. He’d been really great about Clark’s chores, about having to work harder because he couldn’t. They had no idea why his powers were so diminished now. Mom thought maybe it was because his body was busy protecting the ba—it, Dad thought it was maybe so Ripley could get out of him again, since the skin sealed up completely when it…did what it did. Clark shook his head. His theory was that he was cursed. Having sex with Lana had cursed him. Crap, just look at her, her parents were dead, her boyfriend was dead, every damn friend she had but Chloe was dead or mutated, he probably should be glad he was just pregnant and not dead himself…Clark stopped, shocked at his callous and mean-spirited thoughts.

He blushed. Geez, that was kind of nasty. He didn’t think he had that in him. “Ripley,” he said fondly, “Are you making daddy nasty?” He patted his belly and froze. Oh god—it was getting real to him. There really was something in there, a little being, something growing inside of him. Oh God, oh god…there was something alive inside of him-- _Breathe deep, breathe deep, one in, one out, one in, one out_ …It might not be so bad, really, it might be…okay. _one in, one out_ …Maybe he was making a cute little baby. Maybe she was going to adorable, and he’d love her. Him. It. God… _breathe, breathe damn it, calm…_

He concentrated on pleasanter things, like his plans to meet Jordan at the library that afternoon. He breezed through his chores and refused to dwell on that moment of…whatthefuck. He was going to have a nice average normal afternoon, with a friend, and it was going to go well.

Of course he was wrong.

~oRo~

They were sitting on the bench behind the library, the one in the center of some over grown currant bushes. Clark liked sitting there because it was private, kind of, and quiet, sort of---at least when the nearby playground was empty, like today. He sighed contentedly and stretched his legs out. This was his favorite thing. Hanging out with Jordan and eating.

At the moment Clark was working his way through a hotdog and alternating with gulps of soda and it was heaven. He chewed with a smile—it was the best damn hotdog he’d ever eaten, ever, even better than the first four hotdogs. So…damn…good…He thought about the ice-cream shop right behind the hotdog vendors stand. _You’re next, my lovely…mmm, ice-cream…._

Jordan looked at him in awe. “Wow, Kent, you can really pack some food away, damn. Do you eat at all between the times we get together?” He grinned at Clark and Clark grinned back, chewing happily. He licked his fingers and wiped what he couldn’t lick off onto his jeans.

“Whew, that was good. Maybe we should get some ice-cream?”

“Geez, tubbo—maybe you should slow down?”

Clark gasped a little in hurt, and Jordan laughed, oblivious to Clark’s hurt feelings. “Look—this past month you’ve really packed it on, man. What happened to the six-pack you used to have, dude--you’re getting a gut here!" He pulled Clark’s windbreaker open and pointed. “How are you gonna get the guys to look at you, looking like that, hunh?” He grinned—it was an in-joke between them. Before Clark could stop him, he reached over and rubbed his belly hard.

“Uhng!” Clark grunted. An electric shock went straight from under Jordan’s hand to his cock. He could feel his jaw loosening, and his eyes glazing over--the feeling of another hand besides his own on him, someone touching him in what was now an intimate place, was overpowering. Jordan’s hand was still on him, so hot, so heavy…it moved again, and before he could stop himself, Clark grunted again, and his cock jumped. He looked at Jordan, and swallowed, and Jordan looked—aghast. Terrified. Curious.

“Jordan, stop. I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m sorry.

“I did that. Just touching you, I did that?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Clark gasped, “could you—could you move your hand--please.”

“Well…all right,” Jordan answered, in a small, fearful voice and moved it into Clark’s crotch. “Is that okay?” he asked, as he moved his hand in small hot circles right over the bulge pressed hard against Clark’s zipper,

“No! I didn’t mean--UNGH!” Clark’s eyes slammed shut, he grunted and bucked and Jordan whispered, “It moved so hard, I could feel it …”

Clark felt an ice-cold stab of fear under his heart, and forced his eyes open but Jordan had his eyes and hand on his cock, and he let his head fall back with relief— _Thank God--no wait_ —“Jordan, please stop, if you don’t, I’ll come, I swear…”

Jordan stared at him open-mouthed. “Really? That easy?” and cupped Clark, squeezed a bit.

“Yes! Just like that, fuck!”

Jordan looked at him, licked his lips. Clark groaned. “Jordan, this isn’t…it’s not any bit of straight,” he choked out, trying to scare him off.

“I know, right?” he replied. “Can I open your zipper?”

Tears leaked out from under Clark’s eyelids. He was dying, he was soaking and Jordan wanted to know if he could open his zipper? He better not be teasing him. Okay, don’t come right now, or I’ll kill you, he told his cock. He nodded, not trusting himself not to scream, and Jordan pulled his zipper down a bit, just enough to slip his fingers in the waistband and into his shorts.

“Dude, you’re really wet, it’s all…” he stroked the head with his fingers, slipped his thumb from the slit to right under the ridge and Clark’s lips pressed tight together, his hands grabbed the edge of the bench, his ass cleared it--he arched and came silently. Come shot up under his tee-shirt, straight up his chest, spattered against his chin and covered his stomach. He dropped down and aftershocks jerked him right back up and Jordan stared, groaned a little himself.

“Wow.”

Clark nodded. _Wow._ He panted, trying to get himself together. He wiped his face with the napkins from lunch, looked down at his tee shirt and sighed. Toast. That tee shirt was no more. He zipped up his jacket, grateful he’d worn it, and felt eyes on him. Oh fuck.

“Jordan,” he started and felt his face burn. He glanced down at him. Oh. Oh. “Do you want me to…um…help you out? I mean, I owe you…”

Jordan looked at him strangely. “You don’t owe me. I didn’t do it to make you…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He leaned back and wiped his hand on the bench. “Besides,” he laughed a little, and his cheeks turned pink. “I guess hand jobs are no big deal. I bet you and your boyfriends do more than that.”

Clark blushed bright red, covered it by pulling Jordan closer and touching him. “I want to, if it’s all right?”

Jordan nodded quickly, and Clark did to Jordan what Jordan had done to him.

Jordan seemed to like it.

After, they sat quietly, while Clark finished his soda and eyed the remnants of Jordan’s sandwich.

“Clark, I…”

“You don’t have to say it, Jordan, you were curious and it’s okay. I understand. If you’re okay, I’m okay, and I really hope you’re okay, because I hate to lose the one friend I have, though if I was smart I would never have done that in the first place and that was stupid but it felt good to have someone touch me, not just anyone mind you I’m not a slu--”

Jordan pressed his big warm hand over Clark’s mouth. “You’re freaking, dude. It’s okay. I guess I should tell you, I’ve kind of been feeling this for a while. That’s why I asked you to meet me here. I wanted to talk.” He glanced at Clark’s crotch “Only it ended up being more like show and tell.” He dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, I took advantage of you.”

Clark laughed. “I don’t think so. I think I know what that’s like.”

Jordan looked concerned, but Clark shook his head. “Jordan. I have to eat. Seriously, right now.”

“What the fuck, dude, I’m telling you--fat. You’re going to get fat.”

“Man, does it bother you that much? What, are you my mother or my boyfriend or something?”

“No!” He pulled Clark off the bench and they headed for the sidewalk. He cut his eyes to the side, and grinned a lop-sided little grin. “Why, do you want me to be? “

Clark snorted. “Mostly right now I want a hotdog, or ice cream, or no—I want a cinnamon bun. Maybe two.”

“Oink.”

Clark laughed and punched Jordan on the shoulder, and staggered him a bit—that made him grin, and he was still grinning when he turned his head and caught a faint echo of The Smell…

Lex drove past, slowly, looking at him, staring at him, his face shuttered and cold and—fuck.

~oRo~

 

 _Dear Ripley…Crap…let me rewind that…okay. So. A lot of those baby sites say keep a journal. I guess to tell you some day how I felt about it all. Okay, so here’s how I feel. Scared shitless. That’s right, you’re grown now, so get over it. Or you’re supposed to be grown when you hear this. I think that’s the point._

 _Any way, I’m scared. I’m afraid of what will happen._

 _Click_

~oRo~

 

Clark kissed his mom and hugged his dad good night. He trudged up the stairs; his belly was so big he bumped it with his knees as he climbed. He slid his arms under it to help support the weight and groaned. One step, two, ooof. Top of the stairs. Ten steps to the bedroom…after two million years, Clark finally made it to the bedroom and dropped on the bed with a gusty sigh of relief. He winced when the bed creaked and the mattress groaned and sank.

 _How long, oh universe, how long?_ He lay on the narrow bare mattress, and panted. Where were his sheets? Why was it so damn hot—it was freaking hot. Sweat rolled down his face, rolled off his enormous belly, dripped onto the mattress with a plopping sound, so much sweat…too damn much. He pulled up the triple ex tee shirt and gasped. His belly was dripping wet, running with cloudy fluid, the seam split as he watched. He felt a rolling wave of pain and gasped—it was time…Mom! He felt his mouth open but nothing came out. He tried again. Dad! Nothing…the pain suddenly became unbearable.

He screamed, and tried to move, but that awful paralysis that had afflicted him when Ripley crawled into the pouch was back. Only this time—he heard ripping skin, like fabric being torn apart and blood spurted from a long line in his belly; a long, slim ivory claw was pulling a red streamer over his skin. Blood was fountaining now, and he was screaming his head off, MOM! MOM! DAD! HELP! Help….

The pain was horrible, horrible, and Ripley’s head was pushing out of the slit, wiggling back and forth trying to crawl out, and it turned to face him and teeth, too many, many teeth and it dipped its head and bit—it pulled a long wobbly strip of bloody flesh from the edge of the cut, and he screamed until his throat bled. HELP ME LEX, LEXLEXLEX

“--Lex--”

Lex’s name was a mumble on his lips, his legs were jerking under the top sheet wound about him, his comforter was ripped in long strips and the waistband of his boxers were cutting painfully into the ridge. And Ripley was turning somersaults.

God…he dropped back onto the bed and panted. Gosh, that was the _worst_ dream yet. He rubbed his belly, up and down and in circles, the way she seemed to like it. And that stomach, he laughed a little. It had been enormous, more like he was giving birth to an elephant instead of a…a ripley. He sighed, looked at the clock and decided three am was just right for a salad. And an ice-cream sandwich.

~oRo~

 _Dear Ripley. Okay, I was laying in bed and…well…I was laying in bed. And it occurred to me--how the hell am I going to feed you? I don’t have boobs—I’ve checked. All over because, alien here, I could get them anywhere. No boobs. My nips are kind of itchy though. Is that something I say? Ah, I’ll just skip over this part. Or you can. They are really itchy though…_

 _click_

~oRo~

 

“Mom, what if she wants to drink my blood?”

Martha turned and looked at her pregnant, worried son. He was looming in the doorway, big flannel shirt doing nothing to hide the swelling in his middle. His hair had gotten thicker and wilder, his shoulders seemed wider too. He was a little pale, and had circles under his eyes. His lips looked too red in his milk white face. _Oh lord, my poor child--_ “What, sweetie...if who wants to do what?”

“What if she needs to drink my blood to survive, or…or…eat my brains? And if you say anything about snack size, I’ll cry.”

She pushed him into his chair and gave him his peaches and vitamins, that usually headed off any chest-burster talk. She patted him on the head, ruffled his hair and started to turn when she realized what he’d said.

“She? Since when has it become she? Do you know for sure, hon?” She thought about the adorable little creeper she’d seen at Gordmans, pink, with little rosebuds—oh dear. She felt a wave of guilt. Poor Clark was scared to death and she was planning a layette. She hugged him quickly.

“Well, not for sure,” he mumbled around a mouthful of peaches. “It just feels like—you know—it’s a she. She’s a she.” He kept running his hands over and over himself, more caressing than trying to ease pain, she thought. He was beginning to get used to the idea. Maybe it was time to start planning for the future—as much as possible. She sat and smiled at her son.

“Clark…we need to start getting some things together…for the…baby.” She smiled, but from the look on Clark’s face, it may not have been an entirely successful smile. “You know, get a nursery…” She trailed off. Clark was looking at her blank-faced.

“Sure, Mom. Let’s do that. What do you suggest? A crib? A swing? How about some clothes—wait, should we look for a sweater with two arms or four? Hey, do they make rompers with room in the pants for _tentacles_ to come out of her _BUTT!_ ” he scraped the chair back noisily and ran out of the house.

Martha sat at the table, watching the up-turned bowl of peaches spread peach juice in a widening circle. _Tentacles? What in the hell?_

~oRo~

He was standing in the aisle of the really small infants department that Fordman’s had. He’d really felt like a crappy son, freaking out on Mom like that. _Should stop and pick up a card for her, maybe some of those chocolate truffles that she liked. Do they make ‘sorry I’m an asshole’ cards?_ He put his hands in his jacket pockets so that he could sneakily rub the sides of his aching belly. Fucking hormones.

“Boo.”

“Jesus!” He jumped and looked up into the Jordan’s smiling face.

“Hah, Kent, made you piss yourself—dude. Why are you looking at baby clothes? Your mom pregnant?” he wrinkled his forehead, and Clark did the same. Really. Ew. Old people sex.

Clark debated saying yes, but shook his head.

“Okay...oh. Oh. Clark. Did you get somebody pregnant? You didn’t, did you? Because…I mean, it’s okay and all, I’m not—I don’t--” He stopped and huffed. “Clark?”

He looked so lost, and Clark took pity on him. “No, I did not get some girl pregnant. Relax, Jor.” He elbowed him in the ribs and Jordan pushed him with a laugh.

“Hey, help me shop for school, will you? If I let my mom do it, she’ll get me Spiderman sheets for my bed.” He grinned, but after a second, it faded and he looked away. “Yeah. Well--” He looked down at Clark again. “What about you, Kent, have you made up your mind?”

He looked so hopeful and Clark felt horrible. Jordan had a basketball scholarship to MetU, and knew Clark had also been accepted but that was before everything changed. He couldn’t go, of course not—how could he even think about school—he didn’t even know when he was going to have—have this baby of his. His life was on hold until Ripley hit the planet. He shook his head and Jordan squeezed his shoulder. “Well, maybe you and your dad will figure out how to run the farm without your help, right? Hungry?”

Clark winced the slightest bit at the lie, but couldn’t help but grin when Jordan offered him food.

“What was I thinking? Come on.”

~oRo~

 _Wait…stupid recorder…Dear Ripley, I guess if you’re listening to this, you understand that I’m gay. I hope that by now, it’s no big deal, but people being what they are, I’m not taking bets. I know you know because I would never lie to you. You’ll know everything about us, where we come from, what we are. And what we aren’t._

 _Click_

~oRo~

Clark thought that Jordan’s bed was much nicer than his. It was bigger for one thing, queen size, and the mattress was a lot nicer than his, too. He sighed. Geez, it felt so good. He had one pillow shoved under his head, another under his feet and control of the remote—what could be better?

Jordan came in with a giant bag of chips and salsa, and ice cream. Clark beamed. Besides that.

“Kent, you’re costing me a damn fortune, dude. Don’t you ever fucking eat at home, scoot over.” He dropped down on the edge of the bed, and kicked his shoes off. “What are we watching tonight, and if you say fucking Batman, I’m killing you.”

Clark grinned, started the movie and laughed when Jordan moaned as the too familiar sound track blared out.  
“Geez, fuck—I’m so sick of this movie. Michael fucking Keaton—I hate him.”

“You’re just jealous,” Clark laughed and Jordan rolled to his side and with a look absolutely devoid of humor said, “Yeah, I am. I’m jealous of Michael Keaton. And Wil Smith. And Coby Bell and that fucking little fairy Elijah Wood…”

“Hobbit,” Clark muttered around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Yeah--fuck that hobbit. I’m jealous of that stupid kid at the Quick Shop who always checks out your crotch, and I’m really, really jealous of that fucking bald mother fucker who’s been stalking us from day one.”

Clark choked and dropped ice cream down the front of his extra tall big mans two ex tee shirt. “Who—Lex—isn’t gay…” He blushed and tried to scoop up the ice cream with his hand.

Jordan grabbed his hand. “He wants you. Bad. I can see it whenever he thinks we’re not looking and when he catches your eye, he acts like he hates you. He doesn’t hate you. He wants you so much _I_ can taste it.” Jordan stared at him, and his eyes were so hot, so black…Clark gasped when Jordan grabbed his hand, shoved his fingers in his mouth, sucking away the ice-cream on them, licking them, rolling his tongue between them, teasing the web between his fingers—his tongue was so strong, Clark thought, so fierce—

Clark’s heart was pounding, his mouth was dry and his cock was throbbing by the time Jordan let the fingers slide out of his mouth. They left a wet trail over his chin, and Clark could only stare at it, open mouthed and stupid with lust.

Jordan licked his lips and said, “You got ice-cream on your shirt.” He gripped the edge and started to lift and Clark yelled, “No! “ He tried to yank the shirt out of Jordan’s hand but he pushed Clark’s hands out of the way.

“What, let me look, you never let me look.” He pulled the shirt up and looked at the thick red ridge, touched it lightly. Clark managed not to move.

“I can feel it through your shirts…whenever I touch your stomach. What happened—did you have an accident or something?”

Clark nodded, and gasped, “Yes, yes, accident—farming accident. I—I got stabbed, in the stomach, rake , fork…pointy thing…”

“Man--” Jordan breathed, “Aren’t you glad it didn’t get your cock, or your nads—awfully close dude,” he said in a tone of reverent horror.

Clark closed his eyes and went for it. “Yeah, I got stabbed, and I lost, um...some intestine? And that’s why it moves? My stomach—when I’m digesting? It makes movement--” _What the fuck? Where the hell did that come from? He’s so not going to buy that--_

“Ooohh, _that’s_ why—man, I was beginning to think you had something in there.”

Clark stared for a bit and then laughed. “Ah-ha! That’s crazy talk…but I’ll just go home now. I’m--”

Jordan pushed him back. “Let me see.” He looked hard at the red line, touched it and Clark squeezed his eyes shut. “Lift,” he heard, and he lifted his hips and Jordan slid the sweat pants down, freeing his dripping cock. He bent and breathed in deep, and touched the ridge with his nose. Rubbed his nose against Clark’s belly. “It’s…it’s really smooth, almost slick,” he said and his tongue slipped out and licked a narrow line up along it.

Clark cried out, and jerked uncontrollably, so Jordan did it again. And again, until Clark was crying and Jordan was squeezing his cock, and then, Jordan made time stop.

Clark knew he wasn’t breathing, knew his heart wasn’t beating, or his blood moving, he was deaf and his brain was useless …everything stopped while he looked down and watched Jordan suck his cock into his mouth. He watched it come out again, all shiny with spit, and pre-come rolled down the length and Jordan. Caught it. With his. Tongue.

Too much.

This—was the best. Blow Job ever. Ever.

It was the best blowjob ever and the second one he’d ever had.

His cock throbbed and spilled, shooting straight down Jordan’s throat, and he swallowed and swallowed, coughed, and swallowed some more.

Clark ground his teeth into the palm of his hand, and shook so hard, the bed creaked and he felt waves rolling over his stomach—oh fuck!

Jordan dropped his head on his thighs and shuddered. “Damn. Damn.” He pulled his hands up Clark’s legs and cradled his knees. “Jesus…that was…great. Damn.” He turned bright red, and pressed his face against Clark’s leg. “You tasted good,” he whispered, and Clark laughed weakly.

“Yeah, you too.”

Jordan looked up, “How…”

And Clark licked his fingers  
.  
“Oh.Heh.”

Clark didn’t ask, he didn’t have to. He rolled Jordan to his back and pulled down his zipper, and pulled out his cock. He licked up one side, like Jordan had done, and sucked the tip into his mouth and licked again. He licked a little harder, and felt a wonderful surge when Jordan groaned. He licked a slow circle around the head of his cock, tasting, savoring the taste. And feeling more and more powerful with each moan he wrung from him.

“Please. Please.”

Clark opened his mouth and sunk down over Jordan, stopped when he felt him nudge the back of his throat and rested. Jordan yelped and bucked and Clark gagged, but clamped hands down on Jordan’s hips, and sucked and bobbed up and down on him, sucking and licking and loving the sounds he was pulling out of Jordan--he cursed and groaned, moaned and grabbed Clark’s head. Clark waited for him to shove his head down—but he just held it, fingers laced in his hair, and sighed. His cock jumped, and he spilled in Clark’s mouth.

After a bit, he sighed and petted Clark’s head, smoothing the hair back, rubbing his temples. He drew his thumb over his lips. He asked quietly, “That Luthor guy—why did you guys break up?”

“We didn’t break up. Not like that. We were friends, that’s all. Lex isn’t gay. He is a jerk, though. You wouldn’t believe what a jerk he is.”

Jordan just looked. “Uh-hunh. I’m gonna get something to drink. You coming?”

“Can I just lay here until you get back?”

“No, come on, fat boy, get some exercise.” He pulled Clark up to his feet, and they checked each other to make sure they were presentable.

“You know," Clark groaned as he stretched. “That fat thing would really hurt my feelings if I weren’t sure of how crazy you are about me.” He grabbed his shoes and his jacket, and followed Jordan to the door.

“Tchah—what a little girl! Besides,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll pay me back.”

Clark looked at him but Jordan was grinning.

~oRo~

 

 _Dear Ripley. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these but, I’ve been really busy…I’ve been helping a friend move…okay, when I say friend, it’s a little more than that. You know…I love someone, someone you’ll never meet…but this friend. I really care for him. A lot. I want it to be enough, you know…oh crap. That’s not what—in case you’re wondering, you’re making me look like a whale. Okay, not really, but I look like I’ve swallowed a cantaloupe. Good thing I wasn’t a vain kind of guy. And I think…you’re playing basketball. Ow._

 _click_

~oRo~

 

“Jordan, shut up. Really, I mean it. Okay. I’ll talk to you next time.” Clark put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. It was nice talking to him. He missed him. He’d been looking forward to seeing him next weekend, but so much for that. Jordan was a busy guy. Clark rested his chin on his fist. Yeah. He had a life, unlike some pathetic people who had to take their own selves to lunch. Alone. _Oh well, think positive thoughts for the Ripley…eating alone, more food for me._ He rubbed his stomach and sucked up the contents of a sugar packet as he read the menu—suddenly, his nose shut his brain off and waited. _Coming, coming...ah. There…._

Lex was making his way past the tables, looking around with slightly raised eyebrows, as if he were surprised to find himself in such a plebian joint. Clark smiled, surprised himself at how much he missed that smirk. He waited for him to come close to his table but Lex glanced toward him and away, as if he wasn’t even there. Clark felt a pain, right under his ribs, a pain that rose up into his throat.

Lex took his time placing an order, and turned, leaned slightly against the bar.

Looked right at Clark.

Clark felt red bloom in his cheeks, and fought the urge to drop his eyes. Just because he was wearing a huge sweatshirt, and track pants, and rubber flip-flops, which anyone else would wear if their feet hurt non-stop like his did and these had those little nubbies inside that made his feet feel like they were getting million little massages when he walked…massage…He felt himself getting a little hard, and sniffed up that wonderful smell that was short circuiting his brain, and got a lot hard.  
Shit.

Double shit. Lex was coming his way. Clark was even more aware of the fact that his hair looked like he’d up-ended a bottle of oil into it but—that was Ripley’s fault. She was screwing up…everything. He tried to subtly pull his sweatshirt down over his belly, and like an eagle, Lex picked up the movement and raised an eyebrow. He was about to walk past when a combination of lust and nerves made Clark speak.

“Lex.”

Lex stopped as if he’d been slapped and turned. Looked at Clark in that special way that said, you’re dirt, but if you can amuse me, I might allow you to live. Might. “Yes?”

Clark heard it all in that single ‘Yes’— _‘You’re speaking to me. You think you have the right to speak to me? Weren’t you the one who said this friendship is over? Weren’t you the one to snub and ignore me after all--_ “Lex—Lex, can I--”

Lex held his hand up. “No, Clark, let me guess, you need something? Something has gone wrong and you need to throw money at it?” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim black wallet, opened it, pulled a few impossibly crisp bills from it. Clark wondered wildly if he had his money literally laundered.

Lex leaned close, and said softly, “Or did your boyfriend stand you up, Clark? No money for coffee?” and two dollar bills fluttered to the table. “Wait, you look like you’re pretty used to having something to go with that coffee. Enjoy.” A twenty landed on top of the singles.

Clark felt tears fill his eyes so fast it almost hurt, and he couldn’t breathe around the huge painful lump in his throat. He looked up at Lex, and for a moment, Lex looked—awful. Pale and stunned and--awful, and then he was gone.

Lex was a bitch. Why did it surprise him? Well, fuck him. Lex was mean and sarcastic, and never let a slight go by without some kind of retaliation. Lex held a grudge. Lex never let go. Clark blinked, and a fat tear dropped onto the table. He got up, hesitated, and swept the money off the table. Principles were fine and all, but he was hungry, god damn it.

He wandered over to Fordman’s, nibbling at the cinnamon roll he’d bought with Lex’s money. He walked around the aisles, bought a pack of tee-shirts, a bag of socks and casually strolled over to the infants department. He stood looking at a peg board display of packaged infant tees and sleepers. They came in pink, white, blue and yellow. Yellow must be the neutral color. Or the in-between, he snorted. Immediately froze… _naaaah._

He put his hand on a package of pink sleepers, and saw a little bag thing hanging below it. It looked like a dress with a string in the bottom. It was lilac, and had purple crowns on it. Tiny purple crowns. With little yellow jewels on it. Purple. His eyes swam, and he had to promise certain death to himself and a certain alien baby someone before he was able to control himself.

He pulled the remainder of Lex’s money out of his pocket and counted. Just enough. He grinned. Somehow, it just seemed right.

“Look, Ripley,” he whispered. ”Uncle Lex bought you your first present.” He grabbed a pack of pacifiers too.

~oRo~

Clark woke up, sweating and groaning. His body hurt, his belly hurt so bad. He looked down, and could see a slow wave of movement sweep along his belly, a lump moved under the skin. She was moving, moving a lot, and it was hurting inside. He fingered the ridge, felt to see if it might have split, but it was smooth, the same.

He had to get up; lying on his back was making him feel nauseous, and the bed was swooping in circles. He staggered to his feet and walked back and forth across the room, gasping, and hissing with each fresh flow of pain. His head was swimming; he dragged himself over to his desk, and hung on as wave after wave of nausea and dizziness swept him. Cold sweat popped out on his lip, his forehead. “Mom…” He could barely whisper. He leaned his head on his arms and shook. “Ripley, stop, stop…you’re hurting me…”

Finally the pain eased enough that he could move without wanting to fall down. He shuffled to the bathroom, poured a glass of water and eagerly drank it down, his mouth was so dry. For a moment he felt good, and then, he was on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing the water back up. Every retch made his stomach contract and that made Ripley mad, she’d kick, and he’d throw up again and it just seemed to go on, long after he had anything in him to throw up.

~oRo~

Morning finally came, and he was unbelievably grateful. He’d finally managed to drop off to sleep around dawn, when he could hear Dad going out to start his day. He felt tender and breakable, and a little sorry for himself. He sighed. Okay, a lot sorry for himself. This was just so wrong. A guy should never ever have to feel this way. _Nothing against you, Rip. It’s not your fault. You were probably as upset as I was._ He rubbed his belly as he talked to her and dressed, carefully. His stomach and back were still sore after last night. He’d fully expected to see his guts floating in the bowl--what a horrible night. He glanced at his closet door; at the Lex gown hanging there in all its lilac majesty.

Okay. He’d made up his mind. At some point in the night, somewhere between hugging the toilet, and shivering on the bathroom floor, miserable and trying to sleep, wrapped in a bath sheet because there was no damn point in leaving the bathroom, he’d come to an important decision. A possibly suicidal decision but he couldn’t see any other way. And he didn’t want any other way.

“Swear, Ripley, this is the best choice. We need to do this. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

She stretched and kicked him in the stomach, and he took that as a good sign.

~oRo~

“There you are, Clark, about time you got up. I’ll need your help today, son.”

Mom and Dad were already sitting at the table, breakfast made, a cup of coffee poured and waiting next to his plate. He grabbed it and took a quick gulp. _Ick_ “This is decaf, isn’t it?”

His mom winced and grinned. “Well, better safe than sorry,” she said, as he rolled his eyes.

“Mom, Dad. We need help.” He could have been less dramatic, he figured, but he didn’t have a lot of time. Food was waiting.

His mom and dad stopped eating and looked up at him. He pulled the chair out and sat. _Ooo, waffles, and peaches!_ He loaded his plate and attacked a waffle while his parents stared, waiting. “Arm sarwe, jufa sec…” He swallowed. “Help. This is not going to work. I’ve been thinking about it, trying to figure out how we’re going to handle this and you know, I can’t have a baby here. I can’t just show up one day with a kid. I’ve got to do something. Soon. Go somewhere.”

“Like…where?” His dad asked.

I don’t know.” He stabbed a piece of waffle and frowned. “It’s not like we have family I can go to,” he said, and wasn’t quite sure what to say when Dad blushed and looked a little angry, and a little sad. Mom grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Clark, I have been thinking about it, too. We can say the baby is mine. Or we can say we adopted, we can say…”

He sighed and shook his head. “No, Mom--I need help before Ri—the baby’s is born. Last night--” He stopped and drew in a shuddery sigh. “I thought I was going to die, I really did.” At his mom’s gasp, he went on, explained what he’d gone through the previous night, and how scared he’d been.

His parents looked devastated, and tears ran down Mom’s face. “Oh, Clark, honey…”

“Yeah. It’s not like we can run to the emergency room, hunh? I’m going to ask for help from the only person I know who might be able to help…Lex.”

His dad jumped to his feet, furiously shouting, “HELL NO!”

Mom reached out and grabbed his arm. “Jonathan! Clark—that’s crazy! He’ll...he’ll…’

“He’ll cut you into little bits and examine the bits—he’ll take you apart to see how you work and to see if he can make money from it—he’ll kill you trying to find out what makes you…you.” Dad dropped back down to the couch, drained and pale. “No, I forbid you to talk to him. No.”

Mom stared at him, fear making her paler than normal. “Your father is right, Clark. He’ll never let you go if you tell him—he’ll hurt you, and your child. He might not plan to, but he will.”

Clark stared at them thoughtfully, before speaking, carefully, softly, but without doubt. “You’re not getting it. He’s my only chance. If something goes wrong, he is _our_ only chance. Besides you, he probably knows more about me than anyone else. I’m going to take my chances. _and pray I saw what I thought I saw._

”I told you, you are forbidden to talk to him—to tell him anything. I mean it, Clark.”

Clark stood, planted his feet, and folded his arms. Stubborn stance. He frowned and said. “I’m really sorry, but I have to do this. You’ll understand, once you get past your hatred of him, you’ll understand.’

“Clark—son--I don’t hate him. It’s just…I can tell a man’s character. I’ve been around long enough to be able to tell who’s a good man and who’s not—he’s not a good man.”

Clark nodded. “I’m sure you think so. I guess for Smallville, he is a bad man. But we don’t really know what kind of life he lives in Metropolis. What makes him a bad man here, might be what he needs to survive in the city, Dad.”

“What—Clark, a man is good, or he’s bad. That’s all there is to it.”

“Dad, I understand that you believe what you’re saying to be true. I think it might not be so simple. I have to leave now…can I come back?”

“Will you be _able_ to come back,” Mom nearly yelled. “Will he let you go—I’m coming with you.”

“No. I have to go by myself, or he won’t listen. He’ll let me go. I know he will.” _pretty sure he will._

Clark might not have all his abilities, but he could still move faster than the average human, and he was gone before his parents could move.

~oRo~

Clark wasn’t stupid. He knew the very real possibility existed that Lex would just throw him into a lab somewhere and never let him out, or more likely that he’d turn him away without even letting him speak. But he was counting on the gut feeling he had, that Lex would never hurt him, not purposely. Clark snorted. Not as curious as he was. He was counting on that too--how curious Lex was. And he had the hope that Lex still cared enough to help.

 

He trudged along the road, and wished he’d taken the truck but he’d pretty much ruined things with Dad, and he didn’t want to make it worse, if that was even possible. He was still hoping that he was going to let him back in the house, but…damn.  
It was hot. Was it always this damn hot so late in the season?

He was more than halfway there, and his tongue felt like a bathmat in his mouth. Damn Luthors. Damn living so far away in the frigging woods…God—could it get hotter? He dragged himself over to the side of the road, slid down the small rise and flopped on the grass. He breathed heavily for a bit, relaxed. As long as no one drove up, he’d be fine.

“So. What do you think he’d going to do? I wish I’d been as positive as I acted with Mom and Dad. He’s going to kill me. After the way he snubbed me in the Talon, I must be crazy to do this.” He sighed and turned to his side. “At least I know what’s going on now. He definitely loves me. No, seriously, he does. Did you see the look on his face when I was…not crying? He cares. Jordan said so too.” Clark felt a pang thinking of him. But what the heck, life was full of guilt and pain, and, and…not nearly enough ice cream.

He huffed and got to his feet, and refused to put a hand in the small of his back and groan. Hell no.

A few yards down the road, he threw caution to the winds and pulled off his sweatshirt—the shirt underneath was damp on the back and under the arms, it clung a little but it felt a hell of a lot better. He mopped his face and tied the sweatshirt sleeves around his waist—just—and trudged onward.

When he finally he caught sight of the castle through the trees, he could swear there was a halo around it, a host of angels sang, and music chimed. Or maybe it was just the sunstroke.

He had to walk up to the front gates because he couldn’t pull open the bars anymore. He pushed the buzzer and waited.

“Yes?”

“I’m, unh…Clark…Clark Kent…to see Le—Mr. Luthor, please.”

“One moment.”

Clark waited, prepared to wait a long time, and suddenly the gates buzzed and opened. He felt a bit of surprise, and a bit of pleasure. He let him in!

~oRo~

 

He was led to the library, a room he’d rarely seen, by the butler, a man he’d rarely seen, what with the letting his own self in…

“Mr. Luthor will be in as soon as he’s able,” he was told, and Clark spent a few miserable boring minutes until the butler guy was back with lemonade.

Lemonade.

It made Clark snicker, thinking of Lex sipping lemonade. He drank a cold, sweating glass of lemonade packed with delicious crunchy cubes of ice, and pretended that it had been made just for him—once it might have been true. He drank another glass, and wondered if it would be rude to wander down to the kitchen and get something to eat. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Nice work, that. Paneled. Hunh. He’d never noticed that before. Squares in squares…nice…brown…nice….

Lex shook his shoulder.

“Clark. You feel asleep.”

Clark blinked sleepily at him and yawned. “I’m sorry, Lex.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He looked down and spoke in a small voice, “Lex I need your help. I have a problem that I think you can help me with…”

~oRo~

He sat back and watched Lex’s expression. He hadn’t said one word the entire time, just listened. Steepled his fingers and watched Clark’s face, and was silent.

Clark asked, “Well, will you help?”

Lex stood and walked around the heavy wood desk. He came to rest leaning against it, facing Clark. “Well. You need me. Imagine that.” He smiled, slow, almost a leer. “I can help you—but you need to help me in return.”

Clark swallowed. “Help…you?”

“Nothing’s free, Clark. Surely you know that by now.” Lex unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers. He slid his hand into the open zipper. “Come here, Clark.”

Clark walked hesitantly over to stand in front of Lex. “Lex…please. I don’t…” He stopped, and Lex smirked, and urged him to his knees with a hand on his shoulder.

“Have you ever sucked dick, Clark?”

Clark nodded slowly, his face was burning, he felt like crying, but he needed Lex’s help, and at the same time, he was so hard he was almost dizzy.

Lex eased his cock out and held it, and Clark parted his lips, let him slide it into his mouth.

Lex pumped his hips slowly, watching him and muttering, “Suck, suck, suck...”

Clark groaned, there was no way this should be so hot—Lex was using him, but still—

Clark tried to take all of it, he tried to remember what he did with Jordan, but it was too much. He was wild and erratic, too soft too hard too quick--it didn’t matter, Lex was panting and yanking him by his hair, babbling and groaning.

“God, Clark, suck it, show me how much you want my help, suck my dick…”

Clark felt a hot flash and his cock spurt every time Lex said suck, and he was saying it a lot. He reached down and stroked himself, his sweatpants were wet, and he was sliding easily through his hand—Lex growled, “I think I’ll fuck you next” and Clark came hard, screaming around Lex’s cock.

Lex grunted and spurt in Clark’s mouth, hips jerking against him, driving his cock down his throat. After a bit he pulled back and Clark reluctantly released him.

Lex tucked himself back in his trousers and stared down at Clark with a sneer. “All right—I’ll _consider_ helping, maybe you’ll learn to give a decent blowjob at least…” he looked down at Clark. “—say, you’re getting kind of tubby, aren’t you?”

Clark jumped to his feet. “You know what, I’m getting sick and damn tired of everyone calling me fat--”

 

“Clark! Clark, wake up! “

Clark moaned and opened his eyes. He was instantly aware of Lex’s scent, it was in his nose and in his mouth, no wonder…his cock throbbed and he was suddenly horribly aware that god no, he’d come in his pants…he glanced down, Lex glanced down too, and his mouth dropped open.

“Clark?”

And Clark yanked his sweatshirt around to cover his crotch.

Lex closed his mouth. “It’s okay,” he said firmly. “I know…it happens. Don’t worry.” He blushed faintly. “I tried to wake you up, I thought you were having a nightmare,” He smiled ruefully. “Sorry. We can have those laundered, it won’t take long…”

Clark shook his head violently and covered his face. “No, no. Please, god, shut up.”

Lex coughed, and walked away to sit at the desk facing the couch. “So, what’s wrong?” Lex asked, and the momentary flash of concern and friendship was gone, replaced by what Clark thought of sometimes as the Ice Queen persona. “You need something or you wouldn’t be here. And by the way, thank you for not just breaking your way in. That was an uncommon display of manners, earlier.”

 _Fuck you_ “Yes, well, I’m trying. Lex, before I tell you something, you have to promise me—never mind. Okay,” he sighed, “It’s like this—I’m an alien. And I’m sort of pregnant.”

Lex stood, face cold and his eyes narrow, pinning Clark. “All right. Thank you for visiting. I enjoyed your little joke.”

Clark panicked and yelled, “Everything you ever thought about me was true!”

Lex stopped, tilted his head to one side. “So. You truly are an enormous pompous, judgmental ass?”

Clark stopped, blinked, blinked again. “Well…yee-es, but I didn’t mean just that.” Lex’s expression didn’t change but his eyes warmed and Clark smiled inside. He wasn’t stupid. All was not forgiven, but he might have a chance. “And the other stuff—your room, it’s all about me. I know what you said, but it’s _mythat_ serve?”

Lex flushed, and Clark made a face. “Ew, you jerk off in front of it, don’t you?” And his cock twitched. _I want to see that_ \--and you know I’m not human--”

“I do _not_ jerk off--” Lex gasped. “Not human? You are a mutant, aren’t you? Like half your graduating class…like me? I _knew_ it! Why did you have to hide that from me? Why couldn’t we have shared that, Clark?”

“Because I’m not—I really am an alien. A pregnant alien.”

Lex sat on the couch next to him. “Hah—this is will make you laugh, I thought you said pregnant.”

Clark nodded.

Lex said, “Pregnant. Not. You see, that’s not possible.” A dawning light of horror washed over his face. “God, you have a tumor, don’t you? It’s affected your mind. Oh god…I thought you were just getting fa--”

“I will kill you. One more word, I swear.”

“You look wonderful, Clark. You do. Your hair looks great—really great…you can’t tell--” he broke off with a small noise suspiciously like a very tiny quiet sob.

He stared at the ceiling until Clark pulled his face down. “I know what you’re thinking, you. Listen. Pregnant. Really, not human—and I need your help. Desperately.”

Lex swallowed. “I…I…”

Clark said, “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Whatever you…you want from me. Just please, help me.”

“How is this possible? Wha—was--did you self-impregnate?”

“What?” Clark squinted at Lex. “Like a flatworm? Geez, no!”

“Oh, excuse me,” Lex said, “You’re staring at me like I just said something completely insane, and yet, I’m talking to a pregnant man. A pregnant alien man. And I’m just supposed to believe that. That’s just a little too impossible before breakfast, Clark.”

Clark sighed and pulled his shirt up.

Lex gasped. “Oh my gosh…I was right, they operated on you?”

“No, Lex. Here.” He grabbed Lex’s hand, and pressed it over the swelling. “Feel.”

“Feel what--”And Ripley did a nice lazy Immelman, and followed it up with a handstand.

“FUCK!” Lex jumped up and waved his hand at Clark. “What the FUCK was that?”

“Ripley.”

~oRo~

“Clark, you better tell me what the fuck is going on, the truth, all of it, or you can get the fu—you can leave my home right now.” Lex waited, heart racing, praying that Clark wouldn’t leave. Two things fought for attention in his mind, Clark wanted back in his life, and he was right about him, he was more than human--of course--he was more than his savior angel, he was wonderful and complicated and so beautiful and maybe his and—and--

Oh shit. And he was pregnant. Or something. That—a thing in him had pushed against his hand, followed the path of his hand like it knew he was there—Lex’s stomach flipped. He stared at Clark and thought—where’s it going to come out?

He shook his head, concentrated on Clark; on his shining and fearful eyes. _Lex, work this to your advantage. If you’re careful, you can have everything you ever wanted and have it tonight._

Clark’s hands were protectively clasped over his stomach. He looked worried, and increasingly hopeful. Good. It was the right combination of emotions; he was ripe to become dependent, to be led. All he needed to do was focus Clark on him and—something, some odd detail surfaced in his furiously working mind.

“Wait a minute…Ripley? Did you say Ripley?”

Clark blushed. “Yeah. Heh.”

Lex practically fell on the couch next to Clark and said, “Really, Clark…Alien? Come on.”

Clark’s lips twitched, and Lex pressed his together. Clark snorted, and Lex grinned—and then they were laughing.

“Oh Clark,” Lex gasped, “That’s terrible. Ripley. That’s so wrong.”

Clark was laughing and suddenly he was curled over, head on his knees, rocking. “Oh god, I’m so scared. I’m so scared—what if she dies what if she’s screwed up because of her human blood what if I die who’s going to love her if I’m dead what am I supposed to _do?"_ He sobbed, louder and louder until he was almost yelling and Lex lost it completely—he grabbed Clark and held him, petted him.

“Shh, you’re okay, I promise, I’ll help, I will. We’re going to figure all this out. I will make it better, trust me …” _Oh shit, oh shit, what am _I_ going to do? How am I going to make this work?_

He held Clark and laid his head on his shoulder, listening to him draw great big shuddery breaths, and he felt as if his heart had been encased in ice, and now, a horrible fire was burning him, searing everything, but the pain was worth it. His heart was thawing, beating again. He felt as if Clark was saving him again, but at least this time he could repay him. This time he could give him something he needed.

He hoped.

~oRo~

Clark was stretched out on the couch, his feet on one arm and his head on the other. He was wearing a pair of designer jeans that fit him as though they’d been tailored for him, even though he’d had to leave the button open, they were a little…snug…in the waist. He’d looked narrowly at Lex when he was handed the jeans, but Lex refused to rise to the bait. He’d just raised an eyebrow, and Clark had grinned. And wiggled into the jeans.

Lex found that the little belly Clark had now did nothing to reduce the incredible appeal he had for him. He looked at the boy spread out and yawning on his couch, looking comfortable and at home, and he knew—it was ridiculous to think that he could capture Clark. Some how, Clark had marked him as his own, some part of him decided he owned Lex, and now, he was coming to collect. Lex felt helpless, ensnared, caught up like he’d planned to catch Clark up…his dick agreed with his assessment of the situation…it was a good thing.

Clark yawned again, reached under the shirt and rubbed hard around the swelling. “I don’t know if I should call Mom and Dad and let them know I’m here.”

“They know where you are, Clark. It’s not as if you have a wide choice of places to go.”

“Lex.”

“Yes, fine, all right…let’s start from the beginning. Can you tell me what happened, Clark? And would you mind if I took notes?” Clark shook his head, and Lex went behind his desk and opened his laptop. Distance would enable him think analytically, he thought. Sitting right next to Clark like that was terribly distracting…and he smelled so good. He didn’t remember Clark smelling quite so good before…

“Honestly, I’m not completely sure about the details, but this is what happened…”

~oRo~

Lex listened, nodded, and stopped Clark from time to time, made him go over that day in the loft, made him repeat details he remembered again and again. What a shame, Lex thought, to strip all the eroticism out of it…but then again, it was Lana. When Clark described the moment when she’d pushed him down and stuffed his dick inside her, Lex stopped Clark again.

“I’ll have to have her killed,” he said calmly.

“Lex!—I don’t want to hear that. Tell me you’re kidding—you _are_ kidding, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Clark.” _Car accident, mugging, choking on a snail…_

“Lex,” Clark said warningly.

“Good god, you’re making me feel like a serial killer. Nothing horrible will happen to Lana Lang, my word on that.” Clark smiled a little and winced, rubbed his stomach. Lex watched him do it and shivered inside. The thought—was still more than a little unsettling. This thing, this—child, that Clark made with that girl. Well. She’d never know. There were favors to be called in everywhere, and he could make sure that she was happy enough-- the center of so much attention that she’d never come home. _I’ll pay someone to screw her senseless if I have to, I’ll buy a damn gallery for her if it keeps her ass over there._

Clark was never going to have to deal with her again—but the boyfriend… “What about your fu—your buddy? What does he know?”

“Oh, gosh, nothing, nothing at all.”

“He saw you unclothed. Didn’t he?”

“I told you, it’s okay; I made up a story about an accident I had.”

“Oh shit—you lied to him. Crap. All right, maybe we can still salvage this,” he said, ignoring Clark’s outraged ‘hey!’ “Honestly, Clark, did you think at any time I bought any excurse of yours? You are the worst liar in the universe.”

“But Jordan bought it, I know he did. I could tell.”

Lex looked at Clark, really looked at him, how he held himself, his eyes, his attitude…he was going to have to kill this Jordan too. Lex knew that little fling had been more than experimentation, or hormones—he could see the difference in his eyes. He’d never ever say that Jordan had to die for touching what was his, but Jordan had to die. For touching what was his. It doesn’t count if you don’t say it out loud. _Have Jordan killed._ he typed.

“Lex, I don’t even need to see the screen to know what you typed. Jordan is a good guy, that’s all. He helped me when I had no one. I helped him to figure out some things about himself.”

Lex leaned back and thought. Right. _torture first, then kill._ "We need to arrange a delivery room and an exam room. We should try and x-ray, or get a sonogram…is that possible? I know that bullets don’t affect you, or fire, or restricted breathing…” he stopped for a moment, smiled a little. “Say, Clark…”

“Not now,” he moaned.

Lex looked up from his list with a guilty start. “I beg your pardon? Oh! Did you mean, something’s wrong with your powers?”

“Yeah but I was mostly talking to Ripley--” He looked up at Lex with enormous, pained green eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He looked green and sweaty, he was panting like a borzoi. Lex worried that he was going to throw up on his hand knotted wool rug, but mostly, truly, he was worried for Clark.

“Ooww, gosh.” Clark was white now, shaking.

Lex jumped up and ran to him. “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”

Clark shook his head, and began breathing rhythmically, and Lex quietly freaked. Was he going to have this kid now—and for fucks sake—where _was_ this thing going to come out of?

Clark flopped back to the couch, gasping and squeezing his sides. “Oh God, oh god…that was rough. That hurt. Rip—try not to kill your daddy.”

Lex could tell Clark was trying to be off-hand, but it was obvious, he was frightened, as much as Lex was frightened. “I want you in Metropolis. I want you close to my doctors, to people who know the meaning of discretion. I can arrange a hospital room for you. We need to do it right away.”

Clark gasped and nodded, and looked so grateful that Lex felt guilty for not really having any answers for him.

~oRo~

Throughout the entire drive to the Kent farm, Lex explored the possibility that it wasn’t going to be as bad as he feared. Jonathan loved his son, and the Kents were reasonably intelligent people. There was every chance that they could discuss this situation like civilized beings.

He was wrong.

Nothing he imagined prepared him for how truly awful it could be.

To describe the meeting as a meltdown would be an understatement. Lex realized that he’d never really seen Jonathan Kent angry before. He seen him annoyed, sarcastic, fearful even, but this—no wonder his dad had always been rather careful in dealing with Jonathan—he was frightening.

And Clark. Clark…had a temper, something he’d always been aware of, but had never truly seen in action either.

It was terrible, just terrible, and he’d even jumped in between the two—for one awful moment, he thought that Clark was going to hit his father. His eyes had been so fierce, so full of anger—and red, Lex would swear to it.

On top of their anger at Clark, Lex had been accused of any number of nefarious plots, the least of which was molestation. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked if six years made such difference considering that their _son_ was pregnant—implying that he wasn’t exactly pure as the driven snow. Something like that. He rubbed the back of his head. No, that hadn’t been smart. Clark had quite a reach. He looked over at Clark curled up in the seat next to him, a small bag under his legs, and clutching some purple thing…thank god he wasn’t crying. He didn’t think he could stand that. He noticed that Clark had a digital recorder he’d given him last Christmas shoved in his jacket pocket. He knew his parents had no idea Clark had it.

He always gave him or used to, when they still did things like share Christmas and birthdays, a public gift, something to make his parents happy and then, a private gift. Something extravagant that he kept at the castle. Since their falling out, some of those gifts went in the trash, but some were still in Clark’s—the room he kept Clark’s stuff in. In case he’d need it. For emergencies. Like now, so he was totally justified in having done that. Besides, everyone kept a room filled with clothes and toys and stuff for their friends. Friend. Fuck.

He sighed and watched Smallville fall behind them in the rear view mirror. What a god awful unpleasant night it had been. Watching Clark pack, leaving his home...it had been wrenching, horrible. Both his parents had begged him not to go in the end, but what could they do? They had no recourse; there was no way they could keep Clark. Lex hoped they’d heard him when he said that Clark would be safer than he’d ever been in his life—he’d promised to return him healthy and sound and Rip—the baby also.

He listened to Clark’s tiny, exhausted snores and hoped like hell he could make good on that promise.

Lex didn’t even bother to go back to the castle; he drove on to Metropolis, the sound of Clark’s breathing the only thing between him and his thoughts. He glanced over from time to time, once or twice he saw Clark’s belly twitch. He’d managed to stop wincing after a while. He’d almost managed to convince himself that it didn’t make his skin crawl. He even stopped making that little “gaaaah” sound whenever he remembered how Clark described the—the fetus emerging from--Lex shuddered. Okay, not quite over that yet. He looked again. Wondered if it made his dick different…obviously not to the naked eye or Jordan would have had some comment. Unless he was an unbelievably discrete eighteen year old. Right.

He definitely had plans for that kid.

~oRo~

Dawn was breaking by the time they hit the outskirts of the city and it was morning when he and Clark were in his apartment. He made calls, alerted his staff at the castle and in town of the changes and got Clark settled in a room. The first thing Clark did was hang that silly lilac bag on the closet door. Lex shrugged. He knew pregnant…people had a tendency toward odd little fixations. Nesting syndrome or some such thing…

Clark was gently shaking his arm, trying to get his attention.

“I’m hungry.”

“And rude, but the hungry part we can fix.”

Clark grinned, “Sorry, good morning, and thank you. Thank you very much for what you’re doing--and going to be doing for us.”

Lex blushed. “Yeah, well. Shower change, and we’ll go eat,” he ordered.

Clark saluted and went off to do so.

~oRo~

 _Dear Ripley. Okay, here’s what happened. Um…grandma and grandpa decided with Uncle Lex that the best place to be while we waited for you was Metropolis. Unh…it’s nice here, lots of sun because we’re really high up…you seem to like him because any time he’s near, you kick the heck out of me. Um…the food is good. His cook is good. Oh, here’s an important bit of advice—never, ever, ever, let Uncle Lex cook for you. Ever. This is the most important thing I can tell you right now. There’ll probably be more stuff later—but remember this one. And this is just between me and you, got it?_

 _ _click__

~oRo~

Lex gathered a small team of doctors and researchers together, the best possible. He was equal parts excited and nervous about the research. He hated the possible risk of exposing Clark—but it was necessary, if he was to keep his promise to him. At least he could separate the different areas of research, and keep the information under lock. If only a very few specific individuals were to be allowed to have access to all the information, it should minimize the risk to Clark.

Since he’d proven to Lex many times over that he could be trusted, Toby would work with Clark directly, besides, his experience as a battlefield surgeon was probably the perfect background for this. Toby would hand pick whoever he thought best to help. Lex had no doubt they’d be as discrete as the man himself. He knew Toby would explain clearly the risk of leaking information. Lex wasn’t unduly concerned about that. People who thought they were involved in highly illegal and highly lucrative endeavors also tended to keep quiet about what they were doing. They understood more clearly that a false step was a death sentence.

That, Clark didn’t need to know. Lex swung slowly in the chair, rested his elbow on his desk and thought. He was putting himself in a rather darker place than he’d ever cared to be before, what with handing out threats like candy, and running roughshod over the people working for him, but it was all for Clark. If it didn’t make it right, it at least made it bearable. He was sure this would all work out, in the final result.

He explained to Clark what he wanted to do and he reluctantly agreed.

“We need some idea of where we are, Clark. Ripley is an entirely new being, there’s never been anyone like her—as far as we know. If we know a little bit about you, we’ll know a little bit about her.”

 

Clark was examined carefully, from head to toe. Every few days he went through the same procedures, until he complained that he felt as if every pore had been violated. He was poked and prodded and snipped until he’d reached his limits.

“Lex, this is exactly what Mom and Dad were talking about. All I am is a—a science experiment! What’s next on your agenda--cutting body parts off to see if they’ll grow back?” Clark was pale and shaking, his hands clenched in fists and his eyes were too shiny. “Why don’t you tell me the truth? This has stopped being about us, it’s about _you_ now, and your need to know—everything. How long before you don’t see me at all—how long before I don’t have a name anymore, before I’m just ‘the subject’? Lex, this doesn’t feel like protection, not at all.”

“Clark, you’re being ridiculous. You’re hormonal and…why don’t you take a nap, have something to eat.” Lex said, his eyes on the latest reports from Toby and Dr. Chang’s group. Couldn’t Clark see he was busy? Couldn’t he see how much work had to be done in order to keep him safe—why did he insist on getting so emotional?

“Lex, you don’t even see her, do you? You’re not thinking about her as a potential person. You think of her as something for you to experiment on—and that’s never going to happen, do you hear me—never, never, never!”

Lex jerked his eyes away from the report and stared at Clark, and stared at the floor. Had Clark just stamped his foot? He looked back at Clark, who blushed a violent red and snarled.

Foot stamping had definitely occurred.

Clark ran to his room. “You bastard!” he yelled and slammed the door.

Lex stared after him, open-mouthed with shock. What the fuck was that? He stood and flung the papers at his desk, shut down his laptop. God damn it. He was trying to gather a dozen different details together and make sense of them--would they be able to stockpile blood for Clark if they needed it, or could they transfuse human blood—they had to make sure that any common medicines or—or anesthesia wouldn’t harm him, or Ripley. He needed to know as much as possible, as soon as possible, because they didn’t even have the faintest idea of when she was coming. According to Clark it’d been at least seven months since he’d fucked the _dead girl_ Lana. He was no bigger than a second trimester pregnancy. Did that mean he wasn’t going to get bigger? Or would he have some sudden growth or….

They hadn’t even x-rayed Clark, or taken a sonogram yet, because he was nervous about it. Shit.

Lex paced angrily around his study. Clark, he was so frustrating, so infuriating—why couldn’t he see how important he was to him? And to say Ripley was an experiment…he touched her, felt her moving under his hand and he knew she wanted to live, to come be with them. How could he explain his god awful dreams to Clark, dreams about Ripley dying horribly because of some failure on his part, because of some simple thing that he should have done, and didn’t? If something happened to their—to Clark’s baby, it would be his fault. He’d promised. He stood staring at the desk, breathing heavily, before kicking his chair sending it flying. Fuck! FUCK!

He stalked to Clark’s bedroom door, and he could hear quiet crying behind it. He wheeled around and ran back to the office. He gathered the file and locked it away, grabbed his phone.

“Send the car around. I need to go out." _Too much. I need to breathe, just for a little…_

~oRo~

 

Clark was sitting in the dark study when he returned. He was dressed, dry eyed and silent when Lex came staggering in. Clark wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything, and Lex felt a flash of disappointment. “Well. I almost thought you’d be gone,” he laughed.

Clark stared at him. “Gone? To where? I have nowhere else to go.”

“Ooohh, of course. Forgot, I’m the las’ resort. After all other avenues have been ‘xplored, there’s always me. Always last on your list, Clark.”

“Lex. I know I overreacted. I was being unfair. I know you’re doing everything you can to help. I know it’s all for me.”

“No, no Clark, you’re right. It is about science…d’you know your blood makes sick rats get all frish--frisky again? One minute they’re layin’ there on their little sides, waiting for the Grim Reaper to snuff ‘em out, the next they’re—they’re runnin’ their maze like…like…little maze-runnin’ things. ‘esfuckin’ amazing…Burned all that stuff. Too dangerous. Dangerous to the little girl. She’s gonna look just like you, Clark, not like her---her mother. S’gonna be beautiful—just like you.” He nodded. “I’m gonna make sure she’s born, and then—gonna make sure she’s happy.” He looked at Clark, and a big bubble of pain and sorrow filled him. “You’ll let me be a part of her life, right? You’re all I have, all that I live for...”

Clark sighed. “Lex, you’re so, so drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying and you really stink. And you’ve been with someone—some ones,” he gritted and Lex peered at him and his face lit up.

“Jealous? You’re jealous of me?”

“Of course I am. Now go to bed…take a shower first.”

Lex weaved a bit and pointed a finger at Clark. “You—you. Did you take your vitamin supplement today? Hmm? Did you? Did you? Hanh!”

Clark looked at him strangely and Lex hesitated.

“Weren’t we talkin’ about that?” Lex asked curiously.

“No-oo. We were talking about bed?”

Lex waved his hand dismissively. “Clark, you’re too drunk. You’d never get it up. I could try, though,” he leered. “I don’t mind.”

“Jesus, Lex, you’re a weird drunk with a one track mind. Let’s go.”

“Oh, yeah, you know you want this. You just wait, analem--aliem—alien boy. You’re in for the ride of your--”

Clark caught him when he fell and staggered to the bedroom with him.

~oRo~

 

Clark managed to get Lex into his bed without dropping him. Unconscious stupid people were so heavy and ungainly. They were really hard to strip too, especially when they woke up and tried to help you. Clark huffed. He rolled Lex naked into bed—he was not putting jammies on him. When he discovered Lex wasn’t wearing underwear, he narrowed his eyes and figured it was a good thing his powers were lessened. He’d have felt bad if he burned Lex’s bedroom up.

He laid him in the bed, and Lex woke with tears in his eyes. He grabbed Clark’s hand and mumbled, “How could you think I’d hurt you? How could you even think that? I already told you I wouldn’t…it’s—I don’t have time—I have to work and work and—and—I want to be with you instead…why can’t you understand…”

He drifted off again and Clark sat on the bed holding his hand. Lex was so confusing, so cold one minute, so warm the next. He’d just have to learn to live with it. Ripley was sure going to have an interesting childhood—Clark blushed and dropped Lex’s hand. Maybe he shouldn’t assume Lex would want them there that long. He hadn’t touched Clark—in fact, tonight was the first time he even acted like he might want to. Clark wrinkled his forehead—at least he was pretty sure that’s what Lex meant. He was a little unclear in spots. Being blind drunk will do that to you.

He got up and went into his bedroom, got a pillow and came back. He could die of old age waiting for Lex to ask him to come to bed. He stopped and snorted in annoyance when he reentered Lex’s room. The smell of others was beginning to fade at least. Lex’s smell was stronger again. Good.

He rolled onto the bed, curled on his side and looked at Lex. Weird, the only time he’d ever actually slept with someone was one night when he and Jordan had fallen asleep on his bed, but Clark hadn’t actually touched him, being wrapped up in his blankets and fully dressed at the time. That didn’t count. But this…Clark tentatively touched Lex, stroked him carefully and light as feathers. He felt incredible. He was so smooth, like velvet, so soft and warm. Clark was surprised at how muscular he was. He’d always figured Lex for being skinny under those clothes. He was a little thin…so busy taking care of everything, he forgot about himself. Clark sighed. Lex needed a keeper.  
Someone to take care of him, value him. Someone like him.

He stroked Lex’s thigh, barely touching his skin. Well. Dad was right. Lex was not a good man. Or at least, not what Jonathan Kent imagined a good man to be. But then again, he really wasn’t a bad man either, not exactly. He was a—a—pragmatic man. A ruthlessly pragmatic man. He did what he did because the end result was positive. Clark sighed. Lex didn’t worry about what it took to get there. Thank God, he had the world’s best interests at heart.

“I think, we have a full time job on our hands, Ripley. We’re going to have to take care of Uncle Lex here, make sure he doesn’t get lost.” He stroked his arm and smiled.

~oRo~

  
Clark was already eating breakfast when Lex walked into the dining room. He sat at the head of the table and nodded to Clark, who was sitting in a seat at the middle section of the table and eating an omelet with gusto

Lex sat and poked his omelet with a grimace before taking a careful bite.

“Lex.”

Lex stiffened and, when Clark didn’t start yelling, relaxed. “Yes?”

“Lex, I want to apologize for yesterday. I was wrong.” Clark was silent and Lex looked up, realized that he was waiting for some response from him. Not really certain what Clark wanted, still fuzzy from the rapidly dissipating hangover, he said, “Apology accepted Clark” and went on to eat when he realized that what he’d just said was _completely_ the wrong thing to say. The freezing glare was one indication, the angry snort was another….

He took up his napkin and wiped his mouth, set it next to his plate. “Clark, I imagine that whatever I did last night was reprehensible. I apologize. I felt…pressured, and boxed in and I guess I resorted to an old behavior of mine—very poor judgment. At any rate, I am sorry.”

“Lex. You scared me last night; it scared me that you felt so pressured that you snapped like that. I need to know that I can depend on you, that you have my back, and that you’re not going to fall to pieces the moment it gets too rough—what if you’d told someone about me because you were too drunk or whatever to think straight?”

“Are you—you have no _idea_ how truly good I am at keeping the truth hidden, Clark. It would take more than being shi—totally screwed up to blurt out secrets. Trust me.” For just a moment, just a moment, rage at what he had to carry made him grind his teeth—and then, he relaxed. He got up and walked to Clark. Stopped. Stared at him. “You. What you make me do.” he said. He pulled Clark to him, cradled his head in his hands, and kissed him.

~oRo~

 

Clark felt fireworks explode in his head—kiss! Kiss—it was like the first kiss ever. The Kiss. The only kiss ever, the kiss that explained all kisses, created kisses, made kisses happen throughout time and space. When people waxed poetic about kisses, this was the one they meant—not a wet sloppy meeting of tongue and lips and teeth, this kiss was the soul and spirit, the icon of every kiss there ever was, and every kiss there’d ever be.

Holy…Lex was awfully, awfully good at this….

He could feel his blood boiling through his body, busily flowing down every vein, rushing to fill his cock, his lips even. Cock throbbing, lips throbbing, heart throbbing, he rose from his chair, arms coming up to circle Lex, but Lex pushed him back down. “Sit.”

Clark moaned in disappointment when he moved away; thank goodness he sat next to him instead of at the head of the table, so at least he could touch him.

“What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“I want Rip to be safe—I want to be less scared. I want you to be here.”

“I’m here, Clark. I’m here every day, I think about you all the time.” He stopped and gazed at Clark, head tilted, and Clark felt him studying him, examining him. Rating him? He was about to ask when Lex stood. “Come on.” He grabbed his hand and started to walk away. Clark could only follow….

They were on the floor Lex had fitted out to be his own private hospital, geared to take care of one mysterious patient. He kept pulling Clark along, until they were in a small exam room, one he hadn’t seen before. Lex turned on the light, and a beige tiled room revealed itself. There were some machines along one wall, an exam table, a stool and a small cabinet and sink. There were pictures on the ceiling over the table. Clark frowned and laughed at once. “The French rugby team?”

Lex just smiled and pressed a button over the light switch.

A few minutes later, Toby was standing at the door, looking aggravated, hung-over as well. Wild gray hair tumbled around his shoulders; his pale, pouchy frame barely covered by ancient jeans and an equally ancient and threadbare khaki green A-shirt.

“What’s up—you okay?” He peered shortsightedly at Clark, dug around in his hair until he found his glasses. “--the hell—Clark looks fine—what the fuck are you dragging me out of my rack at the ass-crack of dawn for?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock and we need you to set up the ultra-sound for Clark.”

“You say that like ten o’clock is some kinda real time--and I thought you were afrai-uncomfortable with doing that.”

“Changed my mind.”

Clark leaned against Lex, a little scared…a lot scared. This was it—they were going to take their first look at Ripley, the little passenger he was carrying. What if…what if he was wrong? What if it wasn’t a baby? What if he’d been infected…as if he were giving out some signal, Lex reached out for his hand as he watched Toby set up the machine and squeezed, hard, reassuringly. Clark’s eyes fluttered closed. It was amazing to feel that grip, wonderful to feel it like…like anyone else would. He was thankful again for Lex’s strength, sorry that he’d doubted him. Lex made a little noise of encouragement and Clark squeezed back.

No matter what happened to him, he’d remember this feeling forever.

“Okay, let’s rock an’ roll, man.” Toby patted at his jeans and snorted in exasperation when Lex held up a pack of cigarettes and smirked, slid them into his own pocket. “Fuckin’ thief,” Toby muttered.

Lex rolled his eyes and gestured for Clark to get on the table, and then stood to the side, in view of the monitor.

Toby fiddled around a bit, and brought out a large tube. He held it up to Clark and grinned, “Econo-size lube! Ready? It’s ass freezing cold, but that’s just for me—that little shriek always makes me laugh. Never gets old, man, never gets old.” He squeezed a dollop onto Clark’s belly and snickered when Clark yelped. “Told ya.” He glanced back at a deeply frowning Lex and smirked at Clark.

“Prince Mack over there is worried this will hurt--whadaya call ‘im? Ripley?” He snorted, and continued. “I doubt it. We’ve been arguing about this for a while…” He frowned and slid the probe over the swell.

Lex was immediately at Clark’s side. “What? Why are you frowning—what’s wrong?”

“First of all, nothing. Second of all—you can’t be yelling in my ear like that, man.” He moved the probe over and around and then he said, “Fuck.”

“There, Clark.” Lex pointed at the monitor, and Clark saw a curled shape, slowly moving, arms waving…he was stunned. There she was. Alive. Moving. Real.

Toby said, “Fuck me. Fuck me,” reverently, and looked at Clark, a little frightened, a little awestruck. “I always knew it would take someone out of this world to rope Machiavelli. As far as I can tell man, He’s fine. She’s fine. Can’t tell that either. There’s something running down the front of the body—see that? Might be an umbilical cord…don’t see a placenta, though. Might be a—a tail, not sure. But the heartbeat is strong, and movement’s good.”

Lex reached out and touched his finger to Clark’s belly and the little being on the screen moved to the touch.

“Fuck.”

“I’ll say.”

“Oh…she likes you, Lex.”

Lex looked at Clark.

He looked back at the moving figure on the screen. He turned and left the room.

~oRo~

Clark frowned at the closed door for a long moment before speaking to Toby. “Tell the truth now—why did you look like that? What’s wrong?”

Toby sighed and dropped to the stool. He patted his pockets again and shook his head.  
“Well…logically, I’d figure that the way he went in, is the way he’d come out. But…there’s like, nothing there. It’s solid, seamlessly healed. Not even the tiniest hint of a hole or a slit—sealed up like it’s never been open. Worries me. A lot.”

Clark shook his head. “No, don’t worry about that. It formed kind of--real sudden. I expect it’ll part as suddenly.”

Toby looked a lot less confident then Clark did. “I sure as fuck hope so…” he looked worriedly at Clark again. “I guess so. So…any, ah, fluid coming out of your, ah, nipples?”

“Excuse me? NO!” Clark was embarrassed to be asked such a personal question—a stupid question—but lately, he’d been plagued with the same worry that was obviously bothering Toby. He sighed and answered seriously. “No. Not anything. How…what am I going to feed her?”

“Man, I hope we figure that out. And whatever he eats, I sure hope it’s not going to be like, painful, or fatal.”

Clark stared. “So, you’re not a legal doctor because of your really crap bedside manner or because you’re a just an enormous jerk?”

Toby grinned. “Yeah.”

~oRo~

When Clark let himself back in the apartment, Lex was standing in front of the patio doors. He turned at Clark’s gentle cough and Clark was worried to see that his eyes were red and damp, his face was flushed.

“What’s the matter? Are you _scared—disgusted--_ okay?”

Lex smiled, laughed a little. “Yeah Clark. I’m fine. I…she’s really there, Clark. She’s really there. Did you see? She knows me.”

Clark laughed, a strangely giddy feeling bubbling through him—he felt happy. “Of course she does! She knows you, she hears you and feels you. She’s…”

Lex wiped his cheek. “Sit with me outside a bit?” Lex had been slowly, wordlessly converting the rooftop garden he was very proud of into a baby safe play area. Clark knew better than to comment on the whole procedure, but he’d observed the changes and from time to time commented on how nice it looked. Carefully. With no inflection. And not expecting an answer.

Clark headed for one of the lounge chairs arranged around a covered pool. A few lights from the framework of an arbor cast a soft glow but other than that, it was dark on the rooftop. Clark stretched out and held his arms out for Lex. He hesitated, before walking over and perching on the edge of the chair. Clark yanked him over to lie on top of him.

“I love you.”

Lex stiffened. “You’re grateful, I understand--”

“Idiot,” Clark said and covered his mouth with his own.

Lex’s scent was suddenly overpowering, it made Clark groan into Lex’s mouth. Lex tightened his grip on Clark's shoulders, and Clark hummed in approval. There was something so erotic about Lex grabbing him, squeezing him and making him feel kind of…small. He loved it. He surged up against Lex. Small. Yeah…Clark’s legs eased open until Lex was lying in between them and even through the heavy wool trousers and sweater, Clark could feel he was hard. That was good, because so was he. He pushed up against Lex and managed to rub the ridge and stars exploded in his head. Lately it had dulled, so much that he rarely got that sudden spike of arousal from touching it but now—it was throbbing as hard as his cock was, and just as loaded with sensation—when Lex ground back, it felt like he might come from that.

“Can you do that harder--please!”

“So polite,” Lex groaned and ground harder against him, rubbing their cocks together, trying to feel more through layers of fabric and unknowingly driving Clark insane. Clark gasped and groaned and shook, he threw his head back and felt himself pulse, jerk and his pants were wet through. “Lex, Lex, Lex…” he kept groaning over and over, babbling, whipping his head back and forth and then—he yelled and threw his legs around Lex, humping against him wildly, coming in his pants with a hoarse scream.

When Clark was back in himself, Lex had his eyes locked on him—they were so dark and deep that Clark felt like he was falling into them. “You…are…so good for my ego. I’d like to go inside, would you?”

Clark nodded enthusiastically and followed Lex to his bedroom, so close he was almost stepping on his heels.

Lex shut the door behind them and leaned against it, looking Clark over with a spare little smile, just an upturn of the corners of his mouth, and then, the tip of his tongue peeked out and licked the scar on his lip…Clark groaned in anticipation. “Let me,” Lex said and peeled Clark’s clothes off with a lot of probably unnecessary touching, and then he undressed himself, methodically, efficiently with no trace of seductiveness—and Clark found it wildly hot.

Lex stalked up to him with the smooth glide of a panther and Clark thought that too was wildly hot.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed and traced the line of Clark’s shoulder, followed his collarbone and dipped his finger into the hollow of his throat. Clark blushed, shook his head.

“No, I’m not—I’m huge and I have this horrible scar thing on me…”

“No, you are. Look, you need to see yourself like I see you.” He turned Clark to face the mirrors along one wall. “Look at you.” Lex’s head was at his shoulder; his hands pulled Clark back against him. Cocooned in his scent, Clark was hard again, and Lex was touching him—soft, gentle circular motions, over his chest, and belly and hips and ass, touching his cock, stroking him, long fingers carefully tracing the length, learning him.

“Your dick is beautiful, perfectly shaped…so heavy, so hot…” He squeezed and precome flowed over his fingers and Clark could feel Lex’s cock slide upwards against his cleft. Lex watched the flow bubble over and drip to the floor, and the expression he wore made Clark’s blood boil--when Lex pushed his cock harder into the cleft, slid it over his grasping hole, his cock jerked and surged up—it nearly pushed him over the edge right then and there. Lex ran delicate touches over the now bright red ridge, he gasped when Clark howled and bucked against him.

Of course, he pushed again. Harder.

“Clark…Clark…” he pressed one thumb against the ridge and pressed the other thumb against the hot whorl of muscle between his cheeks. Clark shuddered and his knees buckled, and Lex’s thumb was forced into him. He groaned so loud. “Lex, do it now, fuck me…” he felt loose and free, as if he were in the sky, swimming in warm clouds. His legs and arms felt hot and weak, useless. His head dropped back and Lex attacked his mouth and slid his dripping hand between them, slipped it between his ass cheeks, rubbing, wetting him. There was a long moment of delicious tension, waiting, waiting, and then…the head of his cock pressed against him, popped inside…Lex fucked him shallowly, popped his cock in and out until Clark screamed, “All of it, give me--”and Lex growled and slid in deep, deep…electric shocks sparked and sputtered up Clark's spine.

“Fuck—you’re—you’re so hot—my dick—fuck…fuck, fuck…” Lex gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise, Clark could feel Lex's fingers grinding against bone, he could feel his cock burning in and out of him…he was in heaven. Lex moaned and ground his teeth into his shoulder—it was amazing, wonderful, to feel all the tiny things he was never able to feel before, shades of sensation that he’d always been deprived of…it was like a gift, to feel these little pains…Lex bit down and Clark shuddered. He felt orgasm rising up, almost in slow motion. His knees wobbled and Lex grabbed his hips, hard, thrust in harder and harder until the slap of flesh against wet flesh was all Clark heard, he was drifting, wrapped up in his pleasure….

Lex brought him back, hissed in his ear, “Who else fucked you Clark—who else?” and he twisted a tender nipple viciously.

Clark yelped and groaned--“Just you,” he gasped, “Only you--”

He arched and came at the same moment Lex did. He felt wet heat race up his belly, come ran down his legs in hot trails and then oddly he felt streams of heat run down his chest….sweat?

“Holy shit…” Lex sounded stunned, and Clark opened his eyes and yelled—a stream of bluish liquid ran from his nipples. He staggered back, nearly knocking Lex off his feet.

“Clark! Hold up!” Lex pulled away and turned Clark from the mirror. He stared at his chest, concerned for his lover, and yes, immensely curious as well. _Bastard/i > Clark thought. _

_“Oh, okay, okay, it must be—this is probably normal for you--” he raised a fingertip to the fluid, and smeared sticky liquid over the pad of his finger. He touched the very tip of his tongue to it. “…hmm, it’s …sweet, kind of….”_

 _Clark pushed him out of the way. “ _Shut up!_ Shut up!” This was horrible. Worse than horrible. This is what horrible would be if horrible graduated at the top of it’s class. _

He glanced down. The fluid wasn’t running any more, thank God, but his nipples felt weirdly tender, and he felt like…a…a cow. His eyes clouded with tears, _stupid, stupid life_ and he moaned, “God, am I going to get breasts now too?”

Lex snorted and quickly covered with a coughing fit. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and--and—call Dr. Chang, I guess.”

The fluid turned out to be nearly identical to human breast milk, and Dr. Chang suggested that it could be easily reproduced—and Clark rejoiced.

Lex frowned at that—“Clark, it more than likely would be better for Ripley if you nur—erk--”

Clark had Lex by his tie, and yanked him nose to nose with him. “I would rather put my eyes out, do you understand—I’d rather put _your_ eyes out.” He gritted between clenched teeth.

“You need to get out more, sweetheart. Talk to other people. You’re picking up bad habits from me.”

~oRo~

 _Dear Ripley. Look, you need to understand. I can—could have, I guess--nursed but. No. Just, no. I’m…I guess it would have been different on my home world, but I think like a human guy, raised by humans, with human ideas of how the world works and this—is just not how it goes. I’ll give you a bottle all day long but not—this. No matter what Poppa Lex and Toby say, and personally I think they’re both fu—messing with me. Just remember, I love you. And since you’re listening to this, obviously it worked out fine and you didn’t grow up to become an ax-murderer because you felt neglected, or traumatized or stuff…unless of course you killed us in our beds and found this after….  
I gotta remember to edit this darn thing…._

 _ _click__

~oRo~

Clark was trying to be patient but he felt like he was losing his mind. Besides that…thing that happened with Lex, nothing changed. Nothing new happened. No sign of Ripley vacating, whatever those signs might be. Some nights he lay awake, worrying that everything had screwed up already, and they just couldn’t tell. What was worse by far were the nights Lex lay awake, worrying. And like some Twilight Zone ‘oh, I broke my glasses and it’s the end of all optometrists and the world’ episode, along with his life getting more frightening, it was getting more boring. Horribly boring. In part, because it was getting harder and harder for him to leave the house. It felt…so uncomfortable. Unless Lex was with him, but even then, it almost hurt to be out of the apartment--in fact, being in Lex’s bedroom was the best, most comfortable place to be.

Lex, being the enormous fathead that he was, insisted on…on having a life anyway. Clark grimaced, torn between feeling sorry for himself and knowing that he was pretty much being a jerk. It was just…the last few weeks were just chock full of suck and not much else. He’d spent Halloween pouting and stuffing himself with candy he claimed to have bought for trick-or-treaters. When he’d seen bag after bag of candy, Lex had looked at him for a long, long moment, before saying in that smart ass, faux patient way he had, “Penthouse, Clark. You’d be surprised how many trick-or-treaters we _don’t_ get…”

Of course, Lex had tried to talk him into going to the annual Metropolis Museum’s Masquerade Ball. Clark refused to go. Sure Lex invited him—but he refused to go as some anonymous friend of his and Lex yelled, it’s not that simple and Clark argued lots of well known people were out, and Lex said name me one candidate for higher office that’s out and Clark had ended the discussion with a slammed door. And when the fuck had he turned into such a girl Lex shouted through the door. Fathead.

So, yeah, Halloween…salty candy, tear-jerker movies and lots of pictures of Lex in the paper, smiling whenever he thought the camera was on him and frowning when he thought it wasn’t…

Now here it was Thanksgiving, a family holiday, and it just reminded him of what he didn’t have… he tried to spend it locked in his room, but Lex forced him to go to a restaurant, to have some dried out turkey not half as good as Mom’s, and clumpy rice, watery gravy and gummy apple pie from canned apples, and he ate and cried until Lex snapped at him, accused him of being selfish and controlling and he countered with controlling you bastard look who’s talking. The ride back to the penthouse was thunderously quiet. And not good.

Lex went directly to the patio when they arrived home. After a half hour, Clark went out to see what he was doing…he was sitting on the lounge chair, the one on which they’d first touched each other, his head to the sky, letting snowflakes fall on him, snow dusting his black coat, melting over his bare, terribly fragile looking scalp.

He looked up at Clark, and said, “I’m not making you happy. I want to but I guess I don’t know how. I’m sorry. You know that my protection extends to you no matter where you are. You don’t have to be here.” He turned away. “Go where you need to, to be happy…Jordan is—Fuck!”

A snowball blew apart against the back of his neck and head, and Clark brushed his hands off. _Nailed that little bump!_ he thought and grinned briefly before fixing Lex with eyes he had no idea were glowing red.

“You stupid son of a bitch. I _am_ where I need to be to be happy. With the person I want to be with. And what the fuck? Are you still worrying about Jor?”

“Clark, I hear you talking to Jordan on the phone. I hear you laughing and…and giggling. You giggle when he talks to you. You never giggle with me.”

“Lex, what the heck are you talking about? Giggle? With you? You are the least giggly person I know. I wouldn’t waste your time being silly…”

Lex closed his eyes briefly and opened them. He looked determined. Resolved. Clark growled. Like a fucking martyr. “So,” he said slowly. “That’s it—that’s what you miss.”

“He’s—he’s just a friend, that’s all he is. Everyone needs a friend, Lex.”

“I used to be your friend.”

“Lex—you were until you decided that we couldn’t be, now that we’re …lovers. I miss you as my friend. I miss talking about anything and everything with you. I miss telling you things---I have to have someone--please don’t tell me I can’t be friends with Jordan anymore.”

Lex shook his head. “I won’t. I couldn’t. He’s your friend—I won’t interfere in that.” He stood. “Well...it’s late. I’m going to bed. Will you be joining me, or…”

Clark stomped over to Lex and grabbed his arms. “How can you be so brilliant, so in charge and not know like I do that love is never smooth? Did you think we’d never fight? _Life’s_ not smooth, you bozo. Why should love be?”

Lex looked down, looked away, anywhere but at Clark. “So you do love me…”

“God yes, how often do you need to hear it? I’ll say it every day if that’s what you need…and don’t worry, you don’t need to say it back, I know.” He rubbed his stomach. “Oh gosh, whenever you get upset, she really starts punching. Quick, kiss me so she’ll stop.”

Lex pushed a leg between his and ground up against him, making him instantly breathless. “Or, that—that works too—oh!”

~oRo~

Lex sat at the little marble topped café table and watched students walking to and from class, on whatever business students had….

It made him feel vaguely sad, watching all the extremely normal activity. Clark should have been in that crowd, he thought. He should be running up those stairs and into the school—should be worrying about exams and assignments and projects due and no way in hell worrying whether he’d survive the birth of his child. He sipped at the watery brew that had the gall to call itself coffee and waited. Every minute that passed weakened his resolve.

Finally he spotted a tall—very tall--figure making its way toward him, the crowd parting before him as he bore down on Lex’s table.

He sat and looked straight at the tabletop.

“So…you’re the friend. Jordan.”

“So, you’re the motherfucker that ignored him, treated him like dirt and then stalked him. Luthor.”

He looked up and sneered at Lex, cocky, unafraid. Lex sat back in disbelief, shocked by his total lack of intimidation. Did he have any idea what he could do…his resolve was definitely weakening.

Jordan was grinning now, watching Lex’s reaction. Lex could feel himself practically steam—but he forced calm on himself. He said, “I asked you to meet with me because you’re a friend of Clark’s. I’m concerned about your future--”

“My future? Hey, I’m gonna believe that you’re offering to buy me…something big…and not that you’re planning to whack me or whatever. And by the way, don’t bother. Clark and me—that’s done and you know full well you’ve got nothing to worry about. He’s stupid in love with you. He’s good--I’m good.”

“I was about to say that I’m also concerned about Clark.”

“Sure, you want to protect him. He’s strong and smart and shit but still—he needs someone in his corner. It’s good it’s someone like you.”

Lex nodded. Maybe Jordan understood.

“Look, I don’t need—or want--anything from you or Clark. All Clark wants out of me is a friend. Me—I got lots of people that will throw themselves at you if they think you’re going places.” He grinned. “I’m not lonely. And I sure as hell am going places.”

Lex murmured an agreement. He knew how not lonely Jordan was. He vividly remembered being not lonely like that, too.

“So, do I get to keep talking to him?” He leaned closer and spoke very quietly, his eyes locked on Lex’s. “Do I get to keep breathing?”

Lex sat still, silent. Evaluating.

Jordan went on. “You must know how lucky you are to be with him. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve got him, and now that you do, maybe he can help you ‘cause you are one wound tight scary motherfucker. With all respect.”

Lex bristled. Help him? _Help_ him? What was this kid trying to say about him—about Clark? He thought hard, resolve breaking off and bits of it floating away, like an iceberg made of anger. He could do it and Clark would never know…shit. Jordan watched him like he was watching his favorite show. It figured that Clark would have fallen for someone with the same sense of self-preservation that he had.

“Did Clark ever tell you about his farm accident?” Jordan asked, and Lex slid his hand into his coat pocket and fingered the cell phone inside it.

Jordan caught the movement and smirked. “I’m from Smallville, man, born and raised. The first thing we learn is shut the fuck up and believe what you’re told, not what you see. We eat weird with our Count Chocula for breakfast, and we learn to keep our stuff to ourselves. You know? Plus, Clark can’t lie for shit.” He laughed.

Lex sat back. Okay. Jordan dead would upset Clark. Clark needed friends. Lex couldn’t buy friends for him, Clark wouldn’t like it. But he could tie his friend to him…

“I’m trying to say, is that I’d never say a word about Clark to anyone, ever. I’d never want to hurt him. I hope you won’t either. For any reason.”

Lex nodded. He knew someone on the Metropolis Titans who liked tall, gold and big. Maybe a phone call, maybe pointing a scout in the right direction…he smiled at Jordan.  
“Clark is very loyal to his friends, as am I.”

Jordan wasn’t fool enough not to look a little relieved. He bit his lip, deciding something. Lex waited, curious. Finally, the boy stood and took a little package out of his coat pocket. “This is for the both of you. Thanks.”

“I’ll tell Clark you’ll call this weekend?’

Jordan smiled wide. “Yes! I mean, yeah, you do that.”

Lex stood and held out his hand to Jordan. He looked at it, reached out and his large hand gripped Lex’s—bigger than Clarks, it swallowed Lex’s wrist and hand completely and the heat was disconcerting….

“Take care of Clark and…take care.”

“I will.” He watched Jordan walk away and filed him under ‘free--for now’. He’d keep tabs on him certainly. He hoped that he would keep his promise. Lex didn’t want to cause Clark any unnecessary pain.

He was back in the limo headed home before he remembered the little box. Lex pulled it out of his pocket, turned the small package over and over. Well, the boy did say it was for the both of them. He slipped a slim pearl handled knife out of his trouser pocket and slit the tape cleanly. He opened the plain paper wrapped box. Inside was a pair of tiny booties made to look like sneakers. Lex stared and stared and for one insane second, he felt the same for Jordan as he did for Clark.

~oRo~

 _Dear Ripley. You got another present today, a pair of booties. Really tiny sneakers. *laugh* Crazy. I got a present too. I got to keep something very important to me, and Poppa showed…restraint. I think that’s incredible. He’s learning. Shhh. Don’t say a word!_

 _click_

~oRo~

Christmas drew closer, the nearer it came, the more it hurt. It felt like forever since Clark talked to his family and that hurt more than he’d admit out loud. He didn’t get so much as a card from Mom—nothing. They knew where he was, they knew he was safe, they must have seen his pictures--hell, they were famous. Well. Maybe notorious was a better word. And maybe that was it. Maybe they were in Smallville dying of embarrassment. Their big gay son, living all on the front page with his big gay billionaire. Clark smiled into his scarf--when Lex decided it was time to come out, he did it with a vengeance. Of course. There were no small gestures for Lex Luthor. Fireworks and stuff, that was Lex.

At least it hadn’t affected Lex’s ambitions as much as he’d worried about in the beginning. Various influential people who wanted him to run for office were courting him but as yet, he’d made no move.

“We’ll see, Clark, when Ripley’s here. We’ll know better then.”

~oRo~

Clark was walking along a street in the main shopping district, just window-shopping, waiting for Lex to meet him. He had one of Lex’s scarves wrapped around his neck, pulled up to his nose so that he could smell him. It helped. A lot. He listened to the squeak-crunch his boots made in the snow and smiled, imagining Ripley doing the same one day. Everything would be new and wonderful again when she was with him. Snow, and Christmas and cereal. Santa and cartoons and, and…everything. It would be like starting over, in a way.

He stopped and looked at a display of children’s snowsuits in Gordmans window. It reminded him of the times Mom and Dad and him would make a day of going into the city to shop on special occasions, like the beginning of school or Easter time, or Christmas time. Especially Christmas. They had fun--getting lunch, maybe catching a movie, or just walking around and looking at the decorations--just like he was doing now. His eyes watered a bit. Mom had really been excited about a grandchild, back when this all started…even when they weren’t too certain it was going to be okay…the hell with it.

He was going to send a picture home. Lex had a million locked in his safe. His folks would know—they had to know—that he was safe and happy and glad he’d made this decision. Clark nodded, decided he’d ask him as soon as they were home. Clark strolled along, idly looking, making lists in his head of what he wanted to get Lex, what he would buy Mom and Dad if he could.

A little girl ran out in front of him and he barely managed to avoid stepping on her. The mother ran up behind her, apologizing. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I swear, she’s such a handful.”

Clark looked down into a grinning and unrepentant little face--green eyes, a dusting of freckles and bright red hair. Cute.

“Celia, tell the nice man you’re sorry!” the mother demanded and she said sorry with absolutely no remorse or apology at all.

Clark grinned at her, and then the crowds pulled them away. Celia, he thought. Celine…Artia? Ashley? Antonia…he spoke it aloud quietly, thinking. Sophia…Simone? Hmm. He frowned. Martha? Lillian…Clark looked up at the top of the street and right on time, because punctual was his middle name, came Lex.

“It’s two o’clock Clark. Lunch time.”

“Great.” He hugged Lex and colored faintly at how intimate his hug felt, at the intensity of Lex’s look—like Clark was the only dish on the menu. He grabbed Clark’s hand, and hurried him along. He said, “I saw the most horribly behaved little girl on the way to pick you up—she was driving her mother crazy. My child would never be so badly behaved.”

“A little red-head?”

“Yeah—how did you know?”

“I ran into her earlier…Lex. We need to pick a name.”

“Excellent! I have several names already selected, great names. Perfectly suited for her. You just pick one and…what? Now what did I say?”

~oRo~

They sat at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant. Lex was relaxed—leaning back in his chair, one arm slung across the top. Knowing full well what it did to Clark when his shirt was pulled tight across his chest, and smiling with that little edge of possessiveness that was so hot. Lex had fun and games on his mind, and Clark figured now, while his mind was clouded by lust, would be the perfect time to ask Lex if he could send one of Ripley’s pictures to his parents.

Lex blushed a little. “Well…we’ll talk about that later, okay. Right now--”

Clark gasped and grabbed the edge of the table. “Oh…man. That—that was rough.”

“What happened-- you turned white as a sheet.” Lex stood and Clark motioned him impatiently to sit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…just a little, hungry or something. When’s the food coming?”

Lex hesitated, and then sat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clark nodded and yawned. He yawned again, and blinked. “Wow, gosh, all of a sudden I’m so tired. Really tired.” He laid his head on the arm crooked on the table. Blinked at Lex again. “Sooo tired.” His voice dropped lower, and his words were slurred. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. His eyes drooped shut and warm velvety darkness snuggled all over him.

~oRo~

Lex gaped—what the hell—Clark was blearily looking at him, a little smile on his face. His eyelids fluttered closed and he looked like he was five. So sweet, so innocent. He jumped to his feet, panicked. Something awful was happening—Clark was dying!

Clark started at the sound of Lex’s chair scraping back. He lifted his head and looked around. “Why are we still here? I thought we went home. Can we?”

Lex hustled Clark out of the restaurant and out to the limo, trying to get him into the car before he passed out again. Clark kept dropping off, sleeping—snoring. Lex had to nearly drag him to the elevator, and he feel asleep on his shoulder, and against the wall, and he fell asleep while Lex was unlocking the apartment door. Lex laughed softly—it was kind of cute. He hung from Lex’s shoulder, and drooled a little, and curled over him as he tried to walk him to the bedroom. He finally got him stretched out on the bed, and he held up his arms, but Lex shook his head.

“You need sleep—I’ll bet you were up all night again without telling me. Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you later.”

Clark nodded and was asleep almost before he stopped, mostly still in his suit, minus jacket and shoes. Lex smiled and headed to the bathroom. He might as well shower and change, and then maybe do a little work as long as Clark slept. He heard a sound, a little groan, and looked over his shoulder. Clark was frowning in his sleep…Lex turned to walk back to the bed, and suddenly, Clark was sitting up, screaming. Lex ran to the bed, and grabbed Clark’s shoulder. “Clark!”

Clark was still knocked out, screaming in his sleep. He lunged forward and only Lex’s hand on his shoulder kept him from crashing to the ground. “LEX! Lex!” He was asleep, the screams were louder—Lex shook him, harder and harder, shouting at him to wake up, he slapped him, slapped him until his hand hurt and he split Clark’s lip.

Clark suddenly shook, his body convulsed and he woke, staring into Lex’s face. “HURTS!”

He dropped back against the bed, and groaned, “Help me, please, Lex, please…” He was ripping at his shirt, and groaning, and Lex grabbed the edges and ripped down, exposing his chest and belly.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath and touched the ridge, and Clark shrieked—it was fire red, it pulsed and writhed, he could see rapid almost frantic movement under the distended skin.

“Get her out,” he panted, “Get her out.” He arched and screamed again, and Lex stuttered, “Yes, yes, le-let me call Toby--” He fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor. “Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, frantically grabbing for it.

“No-no! You have to--” Clark stopped speaking, he arched again, his skin flushed red, then it drained away to white, he dropped with a gasp to the bed. He panted hard, groaned, “please, now.”

“Do what now, Clark?” Lex gingerly put his hand against the ridge, feeling if it was parting at all, but it was as seamless as it had been since he first saw it. The movements were less frantic now, and Clark wasn’t screaming anymore—his hopeless silence was more frightening than his screams had been. He rolled his eyes toward Lex.

“Lex, cut her out.”

”Are you fucking insane—I’ll get Toby now.” He grabbed again for his phone and Clark just—stopped.

Out, quiet, unconscious…Lex shook him and shook him—he pressed his hand against his belly. Ripley wasn’t moving either.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife.

Clark woke with a gasp. Lex stood staring down at him, shaking. “I can’t—I’ll hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”

“Yes you can…you have to…Lex!”

Lex stood frozen, white as milk and Clark cried, “Don’t make me do it!”

Lex jerked and flipped open the blade. He took a deep shaky breath and cut as carefully as he could across Clark’s belly. Fear made the cut too shallow, it was barely a scratch, and Clark screamed, “Fuck—don’t torture me—cut, fucker!”

Lex grunted, and slashed deep, trying not to cut too far down into Clark’s belly, and the skin parted. Blood erupted from the cut, splashing him, spattering his shirt, his hand. Clark was grabbing the bed, ripping at the sheets. Again, he screamed, passed out, and Lex cut again and something bluish showed in the cut. The skin parted with a wet, crackling sound, and there she was. He dropped the knife and stuck his hand into the open wound and felt blood, something hot and thick and sticky. He felt a weak squirming under his hand. He grit his teeth, prayed and pulled upward.

He held a tiny dripping lump in his hands and his heart stuttered—it was just a mass of undifferentiated cells, a blob…his heart raced painfully and he felt weak, horrified, drowning in a wave of grief. Clark was still out…what would he tell him? His head hung and he fought tears…it wasn’t as if…as if…a tear fell and dropped onto his hands.

The lump made a slow, thick movement in his palms and he nearly dropped it…under the blood and thick mucous covering, a thin bluish membrane glimmered…egg sac, he thought wildly. _Fuck_ —he laid the lump on the bed and hoped against hope, grabbed up the decidedly un-sterile knife and slashed a shallow line across the dripping blob.

It parted with a gush and Ripley slid out, curled in a pool of blue fluid and pale blood. Lex stared. Blinked. Snatched his phone up, hit Toby’s number and screamed something incoherent into it. He threw it and dropped to his knees next to the bed. She was dead. Nothing he’d done had worked. He’d failed any way. This time, he had no strength to fight the tears that welled up and ran down his face. She lay curled like a comma, motionless, cooling rapidly under his fingers. He tried to grab Clark’s hand, dropped it with a moan. He was ice cold, still as Ripley. His skin felt hard, his muscles were stiff…Lex grabbed the remnants of his shirt, yelling hysterically. “You bastard, come back here—don’t you dare leave me—don’t you dare.”

He reached out for Ripley. “You killed him.” He picked her up and his hands came up around her body. It was tiny…so tiny, he could surround her with his two hands, cover her completely. Crush her.

He held her like that, tears falling and dropping on his clasped hands. _Come back,_ he begged silently. _Please._

The suite door flew open and Toby ran in, with attendants and machinery, and snatched Ripley up. They shoved him into a corner, and converged on her, and she disappeared behind a wall of backs. He stood paralyzed, alone, and cold. He fucked up. He’d ruined everything, like always. He’d destroyed everything he loved in one day—he glanced at the alarm clock on Clark’s side of the bed, and was almost hysterical with laughter—in less than a half hour, he’d destroyed his life.

 

The air vibrated with a thin, wavering scream—and Clark jerked like an electric current was being passed through him. Again she screamed, and Lex screamed, and Clark jerked and shuddered. Lex grabbed her from Toby and the nurses and laid her across Clark’s bare chest. Color flooded him, and he groaned. As they watched, the pouch Ripley rested in all those months expelled the lining; the placenta-like mass broke free, and looked as if it were disintegrating, rapidly turning from red to blue to gray, going from firm to slimy… Toby cocked an eyebrow, said thoughtfully, “Hmm. Maybe we need to get that out of there.”

He pulled the graying matter free of the pouch, and as soon as it cleared Clark’s body, dramatic changes took place. The pouch seemed to evert, then flattened out, sank and—disappeared. The skin looked unchanged, unbroken, healthy and pink and just a shade or two paler then the surrounding skin and--Clark blinked. He looked accusingly and a little blearily at Lex. “You stabbed me.”

Lex gasped out a little laugh and wiped his wet face. “Well…yes, I did. But there was a prize involved.” And he stroked Ripley.

Clark looked awestruck. “It’s true…it was true all along. I thought it was all--am I dreaming? I had a horrible dream, we died--” He laid his hands over her. “I’m not dreaming, right—this is really happening?”

“Oh fuck yeah, it is. We’ve ruined the bed and the carpet and my shoes and suit--it’s real. Look at her. She’s incredible. She’s beautiful.”

Clark peered down at her. “Why does she have red hair?”

Lex squinted at her. “She does, doesn’t she…. how odd. I used to have red hair, you know. Bright red hair, curly….” He touched the thin hair waving damply on her perfect head, felt her hand curl around his finger.

“She’s beautiful, Clark.”

“I know. You said she would be.”

“Ripley. You’re beautiful.”

Clark shook his head. “Not Ripley, Alexandra. That’s her name. Alexandra Kent-Luthor.”

Lex smiled. “It’s a perfect name, Clark. Beautiful. Just like her father.”

“ _Fathers,”_ Clark smiled.

~oRo~

 _Dear Ripley. Believe it or not, having you was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Poppa’s a close second, but don’t tell him, trust me, it’s better this way. Now that your name is officially Alexandra, I should call you that…oh, I’ll have to finish this later—Gramma and Grandpa are here and no way am I leaving them alone in the room with Poppa._

 _ _click__

6-01-2006  
Fin


End file.
